Sins of the Puppet Master
by CrystalPepsi320
Summary: This is a tale of romance and terror, destiny and chaos, friendship and betrayal, heroism and violence, love and lies, and most of all, the dichotomy of light and darkness present in one man's soul. That man: Severus Snape. Follow Severus on his epic and dramatic journey down the slippery slope of moral decay, from small child to the hateful, cold man in the black cloak.
1. The Betrothal

**"He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man." -Samuel Johnson**

"_Severus?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_What does it feel like...to kill?"_

_I inhaled deeply, thinking back to the thunderous BANG, the smell of sulfur, the forming scream that was blasted out of his throat before it had a chance to escape his lips, and the blood...oh the blood that painted the walls. I turned toward the window, absently gazing over the waves of the Pacific Ocean, and found the words to answer._

"_Mandarys, what controls the waves of the ocean?"_

"_The moon.", she flatly replies._

"_And what controls the moon?"_

_Her brows furrow in bemusement at the question._

"_The Earth's orbit?"_

"_Yes, and what controls the Earth's orbit?"_

"_The sun."_

"_Very good. Now, what controls the universe?"_

_She goes silent, I can feel her jaw dropping against my chest, looking for words."_

"_I don't know."_

"_I don't either. Nobody does, really. Some may call it God, some may call it Fate, or perhaps it's nothing at all, and we're all just riding on a chaotic tide of rock and flame to nowhere. I can tell you this, though; when you take the life of another human being, it's like for a single moment...you hold all that power, all that control, in your hands. For a moment, it doesn't matter how small you are, how insignificant you feel, what your shortcomings are, how many times you've been beaten, how many games you've lost, how many things you've failed at, how many of your dreams have been broken...because in that moment...you are a God."_

"_You're funny, Sev."_

_I feel her mouth curl into a smile against me as she nuzzles my chest. I tighten my arms around her small frame, bringing her head under my chin. I gently plant a kiss on the top of her head. _

"_Goodnight, Baby Sis. I love you."_

"_I love you too, Sev."_

_I feel her breathing become more rhythmic as the sound of the sea makes me do the same._

**-Dusseldorf, Germany 1953-**

"Vorsätzliche Hure! Are you aware at all of the gravity of the situation!? Do you have any respect, regard, or even THOUGHT for this family?"

Eileen Prince ignored the insult and kept her eyes transfixed on the snow slowly building up on the window. "I always have, father. Even considering the course your...career took." She ran her fingers through her waist-length, midnight black hair. "Father, he's my first cousin -

"And the last of our line! The last Prince of marrying age! Severus LXVIII is a fine, wealthy, Pure-Blood wizard who will care for your every need until the end of your days. Where is the problem here? What more could you want?"

"Happiness, Independence, the freedom to marry a man of my own choosing, preferably one who is not related to me."

"You know our history, Eileen. You know the way we marry. We have been marrying cousin to cousin, uncle to niece, and brother to sister since the days of Severus The Conqueror. We are, and will remain, the Purest-Blooded and most powerful family in the wizarding world."

"Your mind is lost in the ages past, father.", she sighed. "You are delusional. The most powerful family in the wizarding world? Who? All three or four of us? And what power? You lost your last ally in 1945."

Her father's voice took on a deep, smooth, malicious tone, like silk soaked in acid, as it always did when he was on the edge of rage.

"WE lost our last ally, Eileen. WE did.", He began to stroke his golden-blonde beard and contemplate silently for a moment. "Do you remember what the mystic said?"

"You mean the tea leaf reading quack who will get your dead grandmother on the horn for only 150 galleons?", Eileen had little and less respect for the art of divination.

"Für die Liebe von Merlin! ENOUGH of your goddamned quips, child! You remember what she said. You remember her words. "Your Prince shall be THE prince. Your offspring will be the force that restores our bloodline back to glory. The son you bear will be Severus The Conqueror reborn. He will wield a wand made of steel and our family will be delivered back to our position of highest power."

"There has never been a wand crafted from steel, I've researched it. Steel has no magical properties, it wouldn't make an iota of sense to craft a wand from steel. Severus The Conqueror is certainly going to look the fool on this go-around, toting around a wand that's utterly use-AUUGH!"

For a scrawny, middle-aged doctor, he hit with the force of a man twice his size. Eileen was knocked to the floor, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of her mouth. He loomed over her, his face twisted in rage.

"Do NOT mock me, child. This is not a negotiation. Three weeks from today you will be wedded to Severus LXVIII. You will be graceful, courteous, and you will perform your duties as a bride come the wedding night. This conversation is over."

"It is NOT!" His eyes widened in shock, as it was remarkably rare for his daughter to talk back after a good thrashing.

"Do you not realize that this is BARBARIC! It is the year 1953, not 1453! There are no more conquerors or kings in the wizarding world! There are no more knights to gallivant around and win the hearts of fair princesses, and now there will be no more Princes either. And what does it matter!? That age has passed! That chapter of history has long since closed. There is neither glamor nor honor in the thrice-be-damned forced coupling of two blood relatives anymore, just the potential for more children to die or come into this world misshapen because we're so FUCKING inbred! How, father? How can you be so content to sell the soul of your only daughter for this Merlin forsaken pipe dream? How can you stand there and be proud of the fact that in three weeks, your child will be a BREEDING-SOW!?", She screamed as her voice cracked and the tears streamed down her cheeks, trembling half with rage and half with hysteria.

"It seems we will not see eye-to-eye on this.", he spoke with lazy resignation. "Nonetheless, these are the events that shall come to pass. The hand of fate holds us all in its icy grasp. You cannot change what is written in the stars."

"Bullshit. WE are that hand, father. You have been shown time and time again that it is not the heavens that weave a man's destiny, it is the man himself. The war has been the latest illustration of that fact." His eyes immediately dropped to the ground, as if by reflex, at the mention of the war.

"How do you propose to change you fate, child?"

"I'm leaving."

"Where will you go?"

"England, where I can freely show my face and not worry about someone recognizing me as _Dr. Prince's _daughter." She squeezed all the disdain she could muster into the mention of his name. "I'm still remembered at Hogwarts, Professor Slughorn could find me work, I was his best potion brewer."

A sinister grin spread across his face, so wide it looked as if his face might split in two. "I don't suppose you're as good a brewer as I am.", He chuckled.

A look of horror crossed with disgust twisted Eileen's features. "How the fuck can you laugh at that, you sadistic _pig_? I wouldn't _want_ to be as good as you, if it meant doing the things you've done."

"Oh Eileen, one day you will learn that nothing great was ever attained without sacrifice. Perhaps the lesson will sink in when you're bearing your son."

"Did you not hear me, father? I'm leaving. I'm done. I want no part in this family and I will not be used as a pawn in a game that was lost centuries ago."

His face took on a look of icy calm that sent a pang of fear to pierce her heart, and his hand delved into his pocket. Eileen rose to her feet and smoothed her skirts.

"I'm-I'm going upstairs now, to gather my things."

He was on her before her foot hit the ground, and a scream would have escaped her lips, had his cold, slender hand not clamped around her nose and mouth. With his other hand he found the vein, and drove the needle inside. It took not half a second before her limbs failed her, and she crumpled to the ground like a twisted, grotesque rag doll. _You're right, father, you always were the better brewer._

He loomed over her once more. "We can do this two ways, child. You can be a good girl, walk down the aisle and end your days as a maiden in 3 weeks, or, you can enjoy the feeling of being drugged and chained to your bed while you get to know my taser until you change your mind. You haven't a dime to your name, girl, nor as many friends as you think you have. And if in the throws of lunacy you decide to run away, I will find you." With a sinister grin he added, "You know that no one under my..._care_ slips through my fingers."

Eileen attempted to prop herself up on her arms, but they slipped out from underneath her, as useless as wet parchment. With a painful jolt to her neck, she felt her father seize her by her long, dark hair. She clenched her teeth to the point of near shattering as she heard the _screeeeeeee_ sound that her body being dragged along the glossy, wood floor made.

With a harsh tug, he dragged his daughter up the stairway leading to her room. Eileen mused as each step dealt her a rough knock on the head, _13 steps...same number as the gallows. _She could almost laugh, had she not so badly wanted to scream. When they reached the second floor of the estate, her father had the decency to slide his arms underneath her and lift her from the ground. He pushed the door of her room open with his foot and unceremoniously tossed her onto the bed.

"Your room will be charmed shut and locked until morning. If you try anything foolish, I will know. Sleep well, princess."

With a light slam, the door was shut and Eileen was left to process thought after unpleasant thought that raced through her pounding head. It wasn't until about an hour later that movement returned to her limbs. Stacking some pillows against the headboard of her bed, she propped herself up and absently surveyed her bedroom.

The décor of her room was a motley of childhood memories frozen in time, framed by pale pink wallpaper. On the closet door to her left hung moth-eaten Hogwarts robes, a dark green tie with thin, silver stripes draped over the shoulders. Next to the closet was a small display table on which several Gobstone tournament trophies stood. Against the far wall stood a radio and a tall dresser whose surface was home to five porcelain figurines.

Looking at the figurines never failed to evoke a pang of nostalgia within her. They were a Prince family heirloom that had been passed down to her on her 7th birthday, back when life was brighter, and all it took was a simple gift to bring her joy. She observed each of the figures from left to right: A tall, dark-haired prince dressed entirely in black, a chestnut haired princess who held a crystal ball in her cupped hands, a magnificent unicorn with a flowing main of every color that existed in the rainbow, a gallant knight whose armor was made entirely of glittering, solid gold, and lastly, a fair-haired blacksmith, who was hammering away at a sword on a tiny little porcelain anvil.

Her mother used to tell her that the figures would come to life when she was sleeping; that they would throw little parties and gallivant around the room whilst she was tucked warm in her bed, and should she awake, they would run right back into their original positions, quick as lightning, that she may never notice. It was for this reason that Eileen had dubbed the painted porcelain troupe the "night crew." She recalled the hours and hours she staved off sleep, fighting a losing battle against heavy eyelids, just for a chance to catch a glimpse of their after-dark affairs. Of course, the night crew remained stationary, but they were her most precious possessions nonetheless.

Turning over in her bed, she faced a mahogany nightstand where an ornate, jade and ivory music box stood. She reached over and wound it up several times. A little door opened at the top, and two little dancers, an elegantly dressed man and woman, ascended and began to twirl around to a simplified, high pitched version of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Symphony No. 36.

Resting her head and relaxing her body, she observed the tiny waltz. _Maybe it won't be so bad...maybe he's gentle and kind. Perhaps, against all odds, I'll even come to love him._ As optimistic as the thought was however, the gnawing sense of doubt in the pit of her stomach refused to let her believe it._  
_


	2. Oink! Oink! Goes the Human Race

_**"****There is no more lovely, friendly and charming relationship, communion or company,  
than a good marriage." -Martin Luther**_

"_Severus?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Have you ever wanted to make someone happy?"_

_The high-noon sunlight gives her eyes the appearance of molten emeralds, and I find them difficult to look into. There is an unnerving quality to her gaze, and as paranoid and cliché as it sounds, I feel as if she can see right through me. The green orbs leave me feeling naked and exposed, weighing me, judging me. Turning toward the Quidditch pitch, I gather my thoughts, and then face her once more._

_I reach out and tuck loose strands of blood-red hair behind her ear. "No."_

_She flinches backward, a puzzled grimace crinkling her nose. "Why not?"_

_I motion for her to come closer to me, and she obeys. She gasps in surprise as I take her in my arms and perch my chin atop her head._

"_Can anyone ever really _make_ anybody else happy? Is that the mortgage which we pay for this life on Earth? To sacrifice ourselves for another person's happiness? Is it not possible for a man to live without buying into the guise of altruism?"_

"_Sev, what are you talking about?", I feel her squirm._

"_Lil...people are pigs. Fat. Filthy. Greedy. Swine. There is no such thing as a random act of kindness. Selflessness does not exist. Where the naïve and innocent see charity, those who have seen man's unmasked ugliness know there is an ulterior, self-serving motive behind every act. If I were to, out of the blue, give you an expensive gift tomorrow, how would you react?"_

"_I-I would be grateful. I'd want to return the kindness somehow."_

"_Exactly. Your moral code wouldn't allow you to do otherwise. You are now unwillingly indebted to me, and I could continue these random acts of kindness to increase that debt. I could be doing this to inflate my own ego, I could be doing this to appear the gentleman in front of my friends, I could be doing this to snatch a piece of what's under your skirts-"_

"_Sev!"_

"_However! No matter the specific reason, my actions are entirely self-motivated. It's about what _I_ want, not you. My happiness, not yours. I'm only gratifying my own emotional greed."_

_She sighed a long sigh and her shoulders fell. It was as if another little piece of the bubble she lived in had slowly deflated. I often had that effect on her._

"_Well, Sev, are _you_ a pig?"_

_I run my fingernails down the length of her spine. "No, baby, I'm the butcher." I laugh softly into her crimson locks._

_She's silent for a time. "Sev, where did you say your parents were on vacation to again?"_

_In the distance, a thestral takes flight._

…_..._

"You just need one last thing."

Dr. Severus Prince LXVI approached his daughter, holding the tiara reverently with both hands. You would have never known that it was over 1,000 years old, the way it sparkled in the dim lighting. A large emerald was set in the center of the precious silver, flanked by two embossed scorpions, the Prince family sigil.

He gently placed the tiara on top of Eileen's shimmering, ebony hair. "There," he cooed, "a perfect princess." Upon examining her reflection in the mirror, Eileen truly couldn't argue. She donned a heavily antiquated, though no less stunning gown of black and forest green. The edges of the fabric were lined with a silky material, on which little green scorpions were embroidered. Around her neck hung an elaborate emerald necklace. Her hair was an artful tumble of curls inlaid with little white flowers.

She looked the part of a bride in dress, to be sure, but her sullen expression wouldn't look out of place on a death row inmate. Despite the dread gnawing at her insides, she would voice no argument. Open dissent would be about as fruitful as pissing in the wind at this point. Her fate had been decided and it's cold, cruel hand would yield no mercy.

Her train of thought was derailed by long-fingered hands embracing her shoulders. "You wear that dress as beautifully as mother did. She did fill out the front better, but you look to be a vision of loveliness nonetheless." He kissed her cheek.

"Uh...thank you, father. That means a lot to me."

"Please, princess, do try and smile, you want to look perfect for your future husband, don't you?"

"I'll get into character when it comes time for me to play my part in this dog and pony show."

His hands tightened around her shoulders to the point where his fingernails were close to breaking the skin. "Don't fuck this up, Eileen. Now!, he said, with a complete 180 degree change of tone, let's get on with the happiest day of your life." Though expected, she was still revolted by his beaming smile. Taking her by the arm, he led her towards the front door, and they apparrated to the residence of Severus LXVIII.

Cousin Severus lived on the outskirts of Frankfurt, in a home that could be described as somewhere between upper-middle class and mildly wealthy. The living room was large and presentable enough to hold the wedding ceremony in, especially considering there would only be 12 or so guests. Dr. Prince took a moment to examine himself in a small hand mirror, primped his golden hair, and then led his daughter up the walkway and knocked on her future husband's door.

"Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, I'm gonna make you mine!", her father exclaimed, beaming with outstretched arms.

"Sevvy, baby! Eileen! Willkommen! Come on inside!" A hand bearing overly-long, chintzy red nails ushered them inside.

Her father lifted Aunt Jaenarys by the waist and spun her around while she giggled and squealed like an overgrown schoolgirl. "Oh Sevvy, I couldn't be happier to see you, you handsome devil! I swear, you look skinnier every time I see you. _You_ lose the weight and _I_ find it, that must be how it works."

"Nonsense!, her father said, loosening her grip on her so as to survey the gaudily dressed woman. You're as beautiful as you were since you were 18! Besides, I like a woman who has some meat on her bones.", he gave his sister a firm pinch on the behind.

"Oh! You dog!," she laughed. "Whatever shall I do with my naughty, naughty baby brother?", she said mock-chidingly. And you! Eileen! Get over here and give your old, fat aunt a hug!"

Between her Aunt's ample bosom and the noxious, choking fumes of at least an entire bottle of perfume on her skin, Eileen silently prayed she would asphyxiate before the ceremony. Sadly, she did not get her wish. "Now you come with me right upstairs, sweetling, with it being bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress and all that."

She was whisked up the foyer stairs to a room at the end of the hall, where another large, opulent mirror and two female..._thralls_ stood. Their empty, lifeless stares drank her in with the vaguest understanding. A trickle of drool escaped one's lips and she dropped her eyes in discomfort. The Prince family, in their never-ending quest to one-up the entire wizarding world, did not believe in house-elves. Instead, they shelled out thousands of galleons for a thrall or two. Thralls were muggles typically abducted from 3rd world countries, who were bred and raised for servitude. To ensure their unconditional obedience, thralls were partially lobotomized, as well as having their vocal cords removed. Because of this, they had little more than the mental capacity to feed themselves, use the toilet, and perform the basic household tasks which they were assigned.

Looking up again, Eileen noticed something unnerving about the thrall which the family simply called J. J's hair was painted an unnatural shade of vibrant red, and her breasts were disproportionately large compared to the rest of her body. It wasn't uncommon to keep a thrall as a bed slave. They were spayed or castrated upon sale and trained not to resist the touch of their masters. It made her wonder...until Aunt Jenny began assaulting her face with brushes and powder puffs to complete the finishing touches on her makeup.

"Oh! Darling! Your cousin Sevvy is just going to eat you up! He's been waiting for this day for so long."

"Has he, Aunt Jenny?", she replied conversationally.

"Why of course! You are just the prettiest little young thing in this family!", she said in a voice that could give cake diabetes.

"I'm the only little young thing in this family."

For a split second a slight grimace tainted her Aunt's overly-happy features, as if it were a pang of jealousy. "Well, dearest, you and my darling son will get to remedying that problem tonight, now won't you?"

_Touche. _ "I-I suppose we will, Aunt Jenny. I look forward to it.", she replied robotically.

The thralls smoothed her dress and took care of any loose hairs on her while Aunt Jenny continued plastering her face with cosmetics and dousing her in perfume. She even lifted her skirts to dab a bit above her womanhood. When all the poking and prodding was done it was finally time to begin the ceremony. Aunt Jenny led her back down the stairs to the foyer, where her father stood outside the entrance to the living room, ready to take her by the arm and lead her down the aisle.

The tune of _Here Comes the Bride_ struck her like a death knell. Arm-in-arm, she and her father met the beaming glances of a select few Lestranges, Blacks, and Malfoys, as well as toothless, chain-smoking great grandma Adealys Prince, and even Maximillian and Kristella Studworth, the richest pure-blood family in the entire wizarding world. Step by step, the ebony clad bride made her way down the aisle. When her hands began to shake halfway to the alter, her father paid no mind. A few moments later, she was standing face-to-face with cousin Severus.

If there was one way to slingshot a jerk right into shitlord territory, put a crown on his head. A grin cleaved his face from ear to earringed ear. His white-blonde hair framed his ice blue eyes in an artful mess about his smug visage. The golden, emerald bedecked crown of Severus The Conqueror served to complete the picture.

"My Queen!, he genuflected and kissed her hand, "You look absolutely radiant."

"I am pleased you find me so, m'Lord.", Eileen gave a small curtsy. As ridiculous as the titles and customs seemed to her, in typical Prince fashion, it was expected that tradition be upheld.

The Magistrate cleared his throat. "Shall we proceed?"

"By all means.", cousin Severus replied, with a sickly sweet smile.

"Who presents this woman?"

"I do.", Her father bowed. Cousin Severus took her hands in his. His touch was cold. He drew her nearer to him, and as he did this, the right sleeve of his black and green ceremonial robes slipped upward, revealing his forearm. She would have thought nothing of it, had it not been for the veins. Their purplish-red hue was screamingly vibrant against the contrast of his pale skin. They snaked up his arm, practically protruding through the skin in a grotesque, unnatural fashion. Cousin Severus, quickly realizing he was...exposed, hurriedly tugged down his sleeve, his face flushing in what looked to be an expression that was half embarrassment and half worry.

"My good fellows, we are gathered here today to join Severus Prince, the 68th of his name, into the sacred union of matrimony with Eileen Prince, daughter of Dr. Severus Prince, the 66th of his name. Let us rejoice in the coming together of two people whose hearts and spirits are entwined as one. You are adding to your life not only the affection of each other, but also the companionship and blessing of a deep trust as well. You are agreeing to share strength, responsibilities and love. Love is cultivating flexibility, patience, and understanding. Love is having the capacity to forgive and forget. Love is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow.

_Love is the tepid hands of your cousin touching you in places you'd rather not think about, _she thought bitterly. The Magistrate continued to drone on about the delights of everlasting love, two souls joining as one and something about quivers full of children. She broke out of her bored daze when it came time to make the vows.

"Do you, Severus Prince LXVIII, take Eileen Prince to be your lawful wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, as long as you live?"

"I do."

"Do you, Eileen Prince, take Severus Prince LXVIII to be your lawful wedded husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and obey him, as long as you live?"

"I do.", she droned.

"Then by my divine right, I now pronounce you man and wife.", with a flick of his wand shiny, golden rings appeared on each of their respective thumbs. _That's right, _she remembered, _thumbs. To denote an inter-familial marriage. A proud, inter-familial marriage._ The combination of words brought the taste of bile to her tongue. She had just enough time to swallow back the vomit before the Magistrate uttered "You may now kiss the bride."

Cousin Severus wrapped his hands around her shoulders, bent down, and gave her a jarring, overly-forceful kiss, dipping her back slightly. Somewhere, in the deep, cavernous, oubliette of her heart, where a starry-eyed, summer-drunk teenage girl and a glimmer of hope still lived, the smallest voice cried out. _Maybe it will be like the fairy tales, the songs, the sitcoms. Perhaps that wholly unheralded, electrifying spark of enchantment from God-knows-where will somehow kindle and catch fire, and I will open my eyes and see him in new light. _Her eyes fluttered open. Nope. Nothing. His touch was beginning to feel more and more like an annoying, itchy garment that she wanted to tear off; the cheers and applause of the guests like insects buzzing in her ears.

Once again biting back bile, she forced the corners of her mouth into a hollow smile, and faced the gaping maw'd caricatures of powder faced aristocrats waiting to congratulate her. Aunt Jenny immediately ran up to cousin Severus and wildly embraced him, jumping up and down in an embarrassing fashion and yelling about how her baby was finally wed. Gimbiatti Lestrange greeted her with a wide smile, revealing a glimmering gold tooth and wished her many years of happiness. Jebediah Black shook her hand in his many-ringed one and shouted "Reines blut stolz!" Kristella Studworth, practically dripping diamonds, gracefully sauntered her way.

"My dear, sweet, Eileen! You look simply exquisite!", she proclaimed in her refined, American accent.

"Thank you, Lady Studworth. I'm so very honored that you and your husband traveled all the way from California just to be here."

"Oh, darling!", she purred, "It was no trouble at all, I assure you. We wouldn't miss the wedding of the last little Prince girl for the world."

"You-you are truly good people.", she let her face fall, honesty cracking through her voice. "You have helped us so much more than you know...these past years. I don't know how to thank you."

"There is no need, child. No need for that at all. We are the golden shield that protects you, always.", she softly spoke.

Eileen glanced towards her father, who was whispering something in Aunt Jenny's ear, causing her to blush and howl with laughter. The disdain in her glance could not be masked.

"We have done nothing to deserve that protection."

Lady Studworth frowned and cupped Eileen's cheek, genuine sadness reflecting in her blue-green eyes. She leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

"I know this all seems unfair, sweet child, but please, do try to understand. As cliché as it sounds, your father only wants the best for you. After all, he's in such an awful position right now. He's told me how he lies awake at night, wondering if they'll knock on his door and drag him off to Nuremberg. How you'll have no one to look out for you, that his legacy will be scattered to the ashes."

_He could have fled to South America with his partner. I'm a grown woman, I can look out for myself, and piss on his legacy. _She could have argued, but why bother? "I understand, Lady Studworth."

She smiled softly, "Everything will be okay, sweetheart. Now come on, they're starting dinner and presents in the next room." Lady Studworth took her gently by the hand and walked her to the table.

Eileen spent the next hour pushing around a procession of salads, schnitzels, and beef concoctions around on her plate, taking a bite here and there to soak up the copious amounts of champagne she was drinking. She was never much one for the drink, but she didn't see any other option, lest tonight be anything short of torture. Her father was celebrating in much the same fashion, blowing through champagne glasses and taking more enjoyment in rubbing his sister's back than any man ever should. Her new husband sat at the opposite end of the table, eying her in much the same way as he did his food.

When the meal and following cake was through, it came time to open the presents. One by one, she and cousin Severus were handed frilly, white and silver packages. Some of them contained jewelry for her, others nifty household odds and ends. She watched as her father handed a sparkling, golden wrapped and bowed package to cousin Severus. He tore off the wrapping paper eagerly, revealing an ornate, carved, cherry-wood box. Delicately undoing the clasp, he lifted the lid of the box only a sliver, so as to discreetly see what was inside. When he did, he closed it, and shot Dr. Prince a sly smile, as if they were sharing some private joke. Her father responded in kind, with a nod of his head and a wink. _Probably full of girly photos or something, the dirty bastards._

The thralls took the bounty of wedding gifts into the bride and groom's bedchamber, whilst the plates and tables were cleared away via magic. A knock was heard at the door.

"Ah! The band is here!", Squealed Aunt Jenny. She hurriedly led them into the room. Deftly, they set up harp and lute, piano and horn with graceful professionalism. Eileen downed another glass of champagne. Without wasting any time, the band broke into the beginning notes of the family's traditional song, _The Ballad of Severus The Conqueror. _

"I believe it is tradition that the newly wed Lord and Lady have the first dance."

She turned to find cousin Severus grinning at her with an outstretched hand.

"Of course, m'Lord.", she smiled, taking his hand. He led her to the center of the floor, as the leader of the band rang out the first verse.

_And what might have you?_

_The dread King said,_

_That I'd lay down my sword?_

_Bend your knee,_

_And bow to me,_

_Lest your kingdom face my horde._

He swept her to and fro across the dance floor with surprising grace as more and more couples joined in. Eileen laid her head against his shoulder in an attempt to feel some...tenderness, the slightest touch of warmth. The champagne had her feeling slightly swimmy in the head and had begun to rouse some life into her womanhood, but not enough yet to make the prospect of cousin Severus seem appealing.

_May it take a month, a year, or three,_

_Be it magic or steel-on-steel._

_Thy streets shall run red,_

_Thy blood shall be shed,_

_And what's left of you will kneel._

"So, Sev, what was in that box my father gave you?" _It may seem like prying, but after all, I am his_ _ wife now._

"That box? Oh, just a few things to have fun with.", he chuckled.

_And so he rode, and so he rode,_

_The King that knew no fear,_

_From North to South,_

_To East to West,_

_Until the death screams were heard by every ear._

"Fun?"

"Yes, _fun. _Do you like to have _fun, _Eileen?", He looked at her mischievously, poked at his forearm with two fingers, and winked. She had the feeling she was obviously missing the key point of whatever double-entendre he was going for.

"Fun...yes, I like to have fun. Do you remember when we were little and you used to play gobstones with me?"

He began cackling so hard that spittle misted her ear. "Gobstones! Gobstones!", he chortled, "Oh, you pretty little idiot. You're as innocent as a doveling, aren't you? HA!"

_The spears they flew, _

_The body count grew,_

_As his armies thundered in by flood,_

_And every voice that cried in protest,_

_Paid for that right in blood._

She didn't quite know how to respond to that. "I-I suppose it's been a long time since we've seen each other, sweet cousin. It seems we have much to catch up on."

"Well, dearest, we're married now. We'll have plenty of time for that, after I fuck you.", he punctuated the whispered statement by slowly licking her earlobe, finishing off with a graze of his teeth.

_And so he rode, and so he rode,_

_The King that knew no fear,_

_From North to South,_

_To East to West,_

_Until the death screams were heard by every ear._

Perhaps the gesture, in his own skewed mind, was intended to be endearing. To Eileen, it was too much. She abruptly ended the dance, wriggling her arms away from his grasp, and walked away from him as gracefully as she could. By the grace of god, a thrall was passing by with a tray of drinks. She grabbed a fluted pink concoction and greedily gulped it down. Doubling over, she sputtered and hacked, not expecting such a timid-hued drink to be so firesome. Her vision blurred as she grabbed the first seat she could and unceremoniously plopped down upon it. To her left, sat Gimbiatti Lestrange.

"Seniore Lestrange, would you happen to have a cigarette?", She asked, trying her best not to slur.

"My Lady, I am trying to quit."

"Pity, I'm trying to start."

Looking at her awkwardly, Gimbiatti handed her a cigarette, and lit it with a match.

"Thank you, Seniore."

Eileen Prince put her most gracious attempt forward to venture to the backyard. When she stepped out, she was greeted by the crisp, misted taste of mid-autumn air. She took a drag of her cigarette, it tasted like mint crossed with road mud. Watching the gossamer tendrils of smoke drift and dissipate brought her a slight wave of calm...which was unfortunately short-lived when the sound of moaning reached her ears. It was coming from the side of the house. _God be damned, father, you and Aunt Jenny just couldn't wait, could you? _Yet when she strode to the source of the sound, she didn't see a grotesque display of fornication between her father and aunt.

The thrall's garish, crimson painted hair flew about in a rhythmic mess in time with his thrusts. Stepping closer, she could hear the regular _thump-thump-thump_ of her head hitting the siding of the house. He had her serving dress pulled down about her waist, and the skirts hiked up to her hips. It was like watching a high-speed traffic accident unfold before her; as indecent as it was to look upon, a morbid fascination kept her eyes glued to the scene. The thrall's dead eyes looked into his face the entire time, showing only the barest iota of understanding as to what was happening. There was no resistance on her part. _She knows what she was bought for. _Eileen's stomach turned as she watched a rivulet of drool spill onto the thrall's exposed breast. She had seen enough.

"Severus!"

He turned to her startled, nearly dropping the thrall...and then continued the deed. "Just, give me a second.", he said breathlessly. "I'm almost there, sweetling."

There was not enough booze or nicotine in the world to curb the edge on what was happening right now. She just stood there, black eyes wide and blanker than the thrall's. She went to take a drag on her cigarette, but it had already ashed down to the filter. A thousand thoughts flew through her mind, each more violent that the last. _I am going to walk out of this house wearing a suit made out of my father's skin, drinking gin out of my aunt's thick, empty skull, and drive away in a car with your cock as a hood ornament. _

Cousin Severus, who had apparently reached satisfaction as his new wife contemplated 

what he would look like without a head, ordered the thrall to wash her hands and make sure the ice cube trays were filled. He turned to face Eileen.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, dearest, but well, you know how trigger happy the first soldier is.", he put his hands on her waist. "You have to get him knocked out before the real action sta-"

She slapped him so hard he nearly fell backwards. He stared at her, crown askew on his head, utterly dumbstruck, nursing his cheek.

"I don't believe this, I don't believe you-"

"Relax, Eileen! It was only a thrall. I was only getting ready for you."

"Getting ready for me!? Oh no, Severus. You get ready for a jog with a stretch, you get ready for a meal with an appetizer. You do not get ready for your wife with a WHORE!", she spat, black eyes flashing.

"Listen, sweets, I didn't think you'd take it so personally. It won't happen again, I promise.", he reached out to take her hand, which she violently slapped away.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!", she was breathing heavy, her teeth were bared. With a deep breath she tried to regain what was left of her composure. "So you promise it won't happen again? Well, that's just lovely. I'm so glad this little roadbump in our loving partnership has been smoothed out! After all, I'm just so LUCKY to have you! I couldn't be more proud to be the wife of Severus LXVIII! It's been my one dream since I was a little girl to be married to such an abhorrent, pompous, insufferable, dunderheaded, PIG!"

He wiped her spittle from his eyes. "Eileen..."

"Do you think I want to be here!? Do you think I wanted any of this? Did you think I wanted..._you_?"

He staggered back slightly, as if she had slapped him again. He was silent for a time. "No.", he met her eyes with stony resolve. "But, you have me, and I have you, and this can either be easy or hard."

Tears welled in her onxy eyes. She slowly walked backwards, nearly tripping on her heels. Turning away from him, she began to weep in earnest, and slowly tread back into the house.

Inside, the festivities continued. Gimbiatti Lestrange was beyond drunk and telling bawdy jokes to a group of howling men and blushing women. A few of the Malfoys got together and were shooting dice at a table in the corner. Towards the back of the room she could spy her father's face buried in tits the size of bolsters, which belonged to none other than Aunt Jenny. No one paid any mind to the crying bride in the middle of the room. Between the booziness caused by the drinks and her jumpy, restricted breathing, the circus of filth before her began to blur and spin. Stumbling, she found the stairs, and walked up to her new bedroom.

Slamming the door shut behind her, she quickly slipped out of her cumbersome bridal gown and threw it into a heap on the floor. Wearing nothing but her skivvies and jewels, she sank into a chair that was set by a vanity immediately to her right. In her reflection, she saw her eyes were raw from crying, her makeup, haphazard smears of red, purple, and black across her face. Her hair was a ratty mess of midnight curls sticking out every which way from underneath a tilted tiara. _A fitting image for this fairytale ending._

Looking into the mirror again, she spied something hanging from the canopy of the bed behind her. It was a lacy, red neglige, complete with feathers around the top. No doubt, this was the garb intended for her virginity to be served in tonight. A fresh wave of tears and rage came over her. She sprung to her feet, knocking the chair to the floor. In one fell swoop, she tore the offending garment off the hanger and began assaulting it. Piece by piece she tore it to shreds, lacy shrapnel and red feathers fluttering down around her. As if she could not be pushed further, cousin Severus entered the room.

He looked upon her with wide, confused eyes. "Not a fan of Victoria's Secret, I take it?", he smirked. She glared daggers at him. Sighing, he placed the crown of Severus the Conqueror on the bedside table and ran a hand through his white-blond hair. Curiously, he picked up a loose red strip of the once-lingerie and began tying it tightly around his forearm.

"Listen, Eileen", he said, as he brought out the wooden box her father had given him earlier. "I know we're not exactly Cinderella and Prince Charming." He lifted the lid. Inside were tiny little bags, each stamped with little stars and the phrase 'cloud 9' on them. "But, you're here, I'm here. I say we try and make the best of things." He opened up a small drawer on the nightstand, and pulled out a syringe, a lighter, and a spoon. Eileen gaped at him in disbelief. "I think you should have some, it'll help you relax."

"You're joking, right?"

"Your dad brews the finest China White in the business. Nothing but your loss there, sweetheart."

Eileen crossed her arms and angrily sat on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. She brooded in silence, noticing for the first time the full moon that hung over the black horizon. _Would that I was a Werewolf. _Her musings were interrupted by the cold, veiny, hands of cousin Severus undoing the clasp of her bra.

"What are you doing?", she snapped, turning around.

He looked at her as if she had just grown a second head. "Consummating our marriage.", he stated matter-of-factly.

"Severus.", she sighed and looked at him pleadingly. "My head hurts, I'm tired, I'm drained in every way possible. Please...can't we just do this another night?"

His face turned to stone in the darkness. "I realize we're very different people, Eileen, but I have put forth every effort tonight to make you a happy little bride. All of which, has been met by your bitching, your shrieking, and your tears. Take off your fucking panties. Now"

"No, Severus. Please...", she cried and trembled.

Reaching into the drawer where he got the syringe and spoon, he produced a small object.

"Severus, please..."

He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her onto the bed with such force that for a terrified second she feared it had been ripped from it's socket. From the tiny object flipped open a blade that shone razor sharp in the moonlight. He grabbed her close and held her tightly from behind. Eileen went numb. All she could feel was the blade against her throat, his throbbing manhood against her thighs, and her rapid pulse pounding in her ears.

"I told you, sweetling, this can either be easy," he hacked off her panties with the switchblade. "Or, this can be hard."

He rammed her in one stroke.


	3. Don't Forget To Scream When You Wake Up!

"**Who are you and who am I, to say we know the reason why? Some are born; Some men die, beneath one infinite sky. There'll be war and there'll be peace, but everything one day will cease. All the iron turned to rust, all the proud men turned to dust. -Pink Floyd, _Childhood's End_**

Subject no. 394 – age 10: Typhus injected via spine. Reaction not yet apparent

Subject no. 395 – age 8: Cranial impact delivered every 10 seconds. 2:46 p.m. - Skull has begun to fracture. 5:32 p.m – Subject has begun to show developments of psychosis. 7:15 p.m – Subject dead via hemorrhaging.

Subject no. 396 – age 9: Week 3 infected with tuberculosis. Remedy attempts have resulted in failure. Send for extermination.

_I poured over the photos attached to the notes. All the children in them were about my age, only they looked near death; they all had the similar appearance of being a single layer of skin stretched too-thin over bare bones. Some of them had great big growths in their backs and legs, or didn't have legs at all. One little girl had her eyes taken out of her head and was hooked up to some strange machine. Another only had a head, which was wired to a crude, skeletal looking, metal 'body.' _

"_Grandpa, I thought you said you were a doctor?"_

"_I am a doctor, silly boy.", he smiled, ruffling my hair._

"_I thought doctors were supposed to make people better...it looks like you made them sick."_

_Grandpa put his arm around my shoulders, and looked down thoughtfully. "Well, you see, Severus, it's like the old American saying goes. If you want to make an omelet, you have to open up a few eggs."_

"_It looks like you had to open up a few people."_

_Grandpa chuckled. "Yes, well, what I mean to say is...we are men of science, little Severus-" _

"_I'm not little anymore, Grandpa."_

_He looked at me with mock-crossness. "My apologies, Your Grace.", he said, playfully tweaking my nose. "Anyway, as I was saying, we are men of science. As such, in order to further our knowledge, in order to achieve _progress_, it's necessary that we...experiment... _

Subjects no. 397 & 398 – age 11: Adrenaline glands harvested and added directly to Xenochrome potion. Final product twice as potent as previous batch. (Keep bodies at room temperature, perhaps?)

Subject no. 399 – age 14: Placed in decompression chamber, altitude of 18,256 m simulated. Did not survive.

"_Sure, rats can be used, or cats, or dogs. However, once you've been allowed to dabble on the human canvas...that is where science becomes art. More than that even..."_

_His hand drifted toward a chess set on the bedside table. He began fiddling with one of the pawns, somewhat unconsciously._

"_I mean, when you're experimenting on props or animals, it's like playing with toys. However, when you hold human life in your hands...when you can lay it on a table, shape it, mold it, change it, twist it...", he began to lightly flick the chess pieces over, one by one. "It's practically like playing God."_

_Grandpa seemed to be very far away. I watched as he sat there, mindlessly tipping over the chess pieces, gazing out to space with eyes of glass; whatever scene was playing out behind them, I couldn't even begin to guess. I picked up the box of notes and photos again, reaching in and taking out the first Polaroid I touched. This one presented a somewhat lighter tone. It was of Grandpa, looking young and jubilant, arm-in-arm with another doctor, both smiling on the edge of laughter. _This must have been his partner..._The other man stood slightly shorter than Grandpa. He had neatly cropped brown hair and brown eyes, and sported a slight gap between his front teeth. If one didn't know better, you could say they were college boys at a frat party. I turned the Polaroid over in my hands. There was writing scrawled on the back:_

Drs. Prince and Mengele.

12 April, 1943

Auschwitz.

…...

The air tasted gray. Dust. Asbestos. Mildew. More dust. Yes, gray. It was the only way she really could describe the distinct smell that permeated the air of long, long, abandoned buildings. It was so cold the misted clouds of her breath were visible in the dim, off-white light of empty winter. The only sound that could be heard was radio static that seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere. _Where am I?_

"Hello!", she called. The only response was the echo that reverberated from a thousand empty rooms.

To her left there was a doorway leading to a stairwell. Cautiously, she entered. _It must go up at least 20 stories._ One by one she ascended, looking for any sign of life. Every single doorway she encountered was boarded up by planks. Here and there she could spot rectangular discolorations in the walls, as if they were once adorned by pictures or paintings. Every window was shattered, leaving small shards of glass on the ground which were all but buried in dust; Eileen had to tread carefully to avoid a possible sliced foot.

"Hellooo!", she called out again. _Ello-ello-ello_. No sound, but for the radio static. Seeds of fear began to crack and spread in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers became icy and numb as she continued to climb flight after flight of stairs. Suddenly, a black particle of sorts bounded toward her, so quickly her eyes couldn't even take it in; it landed square in the middle of her chest, moving and twitching, the sensation of a waxy feather. She felt long antennae caress the underside of her chin, as her heart stopped. Squealing, she spastically clawed at her chest, sending the offending creature hurling to the floor. The insect bore the body of a cockroach and the long, arched legs of a spider, she had never seen anything quite like it. Turning forward again, she saw another, and another.

When she reached the next small landing, she found their source. In the corner lay a decayed mass of orange fur, black rot and bone that had once been a fox. The strange insects crawled inside and out of its mouth, and various other orifices formed of decomposition. They had no wings, but could jump well over Eileen's head, and seemed to be eerily attracted to her. Instinctively pulling her arms close to her body and shielding her face with her hands, she ran up the next flight of stairs, spasmodically swatting at her hair and arms when she felt a phantom crawling sensation. She didn't stop running until she was three flights clear of the fox and any sign of the bugs. Finding herself at another main landing, she stopped to catch her breath. In front of her, was another boarded-up doorway. On the wall along the stairs leading upwards, someone had tagged graffiti in black spray paint:

_NIGHT CREW WAS HERE._

Was it her fear-struck imagination, or was the radio static growing louder? She turned again to the boarded entryway, running her fingers along dust-coated plywood. So caked in dust, it was barely discernible from the rest of the wall, a plaque was imbedded. Eileen brushed off the thick coating of dust to reveal its lettering.

_Gryffindor! Where dwell the brave at heart!_

"The entrance to Gryffindor tower...Hogwarts...no, this can't be.", she whispered to herself, the words drifting from her mouth in tufts of mist that dissipated in the stillness. However, when she looked upon her surroundings again, she knew them. The stairs lie motionless, the walls barren, everything around her in a state of at least 5 decades of undisturbed decay, yet...here she stood, at what could only be Hogwarts. _This can't be real...I don't understand._

Tapping. Light and scattered, yet rhythmic. Small footsteps. "Hello! Who's there?" No response. The tapping fades into the distance, leaving only echoes behind. Eileen ran, taking the rest of the steps two at a time, until breathlessly, she reached an open corridor. It was long and desolate as the rest of the forsaken castle. She could spot patches of black mold growing on the walls. To her left, someone had tagged more graffiti, in the same black spraypaint.

_ROCK ME, AMADEUS! _

Walking along, she simply stared in disbelief at the rotting emptiness bathed in gray winter's light coming from the shattered windows. Above, it looked like an intercom speaker had become the home to a small nest of wasps. Amazingly enough, it must still be operational, as it was from there the radio static was emitting. _This doesn't make any sense...I was here as a student no more than 8 years ago. There was no word in the papers of any sort of shutdown. _Off to the side, she spied a lone table, on top of which lay a book. Curiously, she picked it up, brushing away the dust and cobwebs which had long since settled on it.

_Libatius Borage's Advanced Potion Making._ She remembered having the same textbook during her sixth year of school. When she opened the book, however, every single page was occupied with the same thing. One bizarre line of text, repeated over and over and over again.

_And he shall storm the Earth, wielding a wand of steel, leaving naught in his wake but triumph and ashes. And he shall storm the Earth, wielding a wand of steel, leaving naught in his wake but triumph and ashes. And he shall storm the Earth, wielding a wand of steel, leaving naught in his wake but triumph and ashes. And he shall storm the Earth, wielding a wand of steel, leaving naught in his wake but triumph and ashes..._

_SCREEEEEECH...SCREEEEECH!_

Eileen threw the book in the air, gasping, clutching at a heart that felt close to bursting. She eyed the intercom speaker, which had begun emitting bizarre sounds, not even daring to breathe.

_SCREEEEEECH...SCREEEEECH!_

On second hearing, she knew the sounds to be vaguely familiar. They were the tones that would play on muggle television sets, before a test of the emergency broadcast system. The sound was setting her teeth on edge. She wanted to scream. After a few grueling seconds, an eerily monotone, automated female voice began to speak.

_Alpha. Yankee. Foxtrot. Alpha. Yankee. Foxtrot. Three. Nine. Seven. One. Five. Three. Nine. Seven. One. Five..._

The robotic voice continued to drone out strings of numbers amidst waves of static, speaking to empty corridors in this strange place that time had forgotten. Eileen continued down the way, dazedly gazing out of shattered windows as she passed, watching snow fall over the Forbidden Forest, which had been stripped bare by the cold season.

_One. Five. Seven. Two. Eight. One. Five. Seven. Two. Eight..._

Eileen's foot caught on something lying on the floor. She flailed her arms and tried to steady herself, though to no avail, she came crashing to the ground, luckily landing on her hands. The offending object appeared to be someone's discarded school uniform. Gray vest and pants, blue and bronze tie, a Ravenclaw. When Eileen pulled herself into a sitting position, she realized her hands were covered in something other than dust. She rubbed between her fingers something gray and black and sooty. _Ashes._ Gingerly picking up the vest, she watched as it shed a pile of ashes onto the ground, as well as some solid white fragments of a sort. She picked up the fragments for closer inspection, nearly vomiting when she realized what they were. In her hand she held human teeth.

_One. Nine. Two. Seven. Four. One. Nine. Two. Seven. Four..._

Eileen could no longer stifle the urge to scream. Scrambling to her feet, she hurled the teeth at the wall and began feverishly wiping her hands on her dress. She wanted to tear off her own skin; no part of her felt clean. The sound of small footsteps threw her from hysterics to pure, frozen, baited breath terror. They were steadily coming closer.

_Seven. Eight. Four. Nine. Four. Seven. Eight. Four. Nine. Four..._

_Click-clack-click-clack. _Nearer and nearer. It was all Eileen could do to just keep breathing. A small figure appeared at the far end of the corridor; a little boy. Knees trembling, she strode over to the short, skinny silhouette, not even daring to speak. They regarded each other in silence. The boy donned rich, black robes, which strongly contrasted his milk-white skin. His hair was a mess of ebony that fell just below his chin, framing strikingly cold black eyes. On his head sat a crown, cut from golden-yellow construction paper. Eileen noticed uncomfortably that it was stained with red splotches.

"Mother...", the child cooed, flashing her a grin.

"I-I think you're mistaken, sweetheart.", Eileen had never seen this child in her life.

"I'm never wrong.", The child's eyes flashed dangerously, his face quickly reflecting annoyance.

"Do you know what happened here, dearheart?", She bent to his level and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Progress.", He replied simply, his frown turning to a prideful grin. "Do you want to see what I've got upstairs?"

"Please, child, if you know this place, could you show me out? All the exits I've found are boarded up. I just want to leave."

_One. Five. Seven. Two. Eight. One. Five. Seven. Two. Eight..._

He offered her his hand, which she took. "This way." He began to lead her up the stairs. If memory served, this was the way up to the astronomy tower.

"Where are you going? These stairs lead to the astronomy tower, there's no way out up there."

"I know a gentleman who might disagree with that assessment."

"I don't understand, what is it that you want?"

He grabbed her other hand and yanked her down to his level. He looked into her eyes for a moment, and then brought his lips to her ear and whispered..."I want everything." The words held such gravitas that it sent a sharp chill down Eileen's spine.

"What-"

"Hush!", He squeezed her hands in his and jerked her forward slightly. For a bony child, he had a scary amount of strength. "Wait'll you see what I have upstairs."

As she followed the child, hand-in-hand up the stairs, she noticed more discarded uniforms littered about. _What in God's name could have happened here? This can't be real..._

_Seven. Eight. Four. Five. One. Seven. Eight. Four. Five. One..._

The child released her hand when they reached the top of the tower. The large steel globe that occupied the center of the balustrade was rusted beyond repair. Next to it stood a simple picnic table that bore a cardboard box.

"What is it that you wanted to show me?"

The child ushered her over to the table, a grin of satisfaction on his face. _He has eyes like mine...that hair too..._ She had also seen that grin before. It was her father's; the look of utter satisfaction crossed with crazed, childlike excitement that he reserved specifically for times when he completed a project, reached a new milestone in potion making, or was sharing tales of the SS.

The child wrapped his long, slender fingers around the lid of the box. "Look." He removed the lid, and Eileen's stomach let go. When she had passed the first wave of vomit, she dared to take a second look of the horror in the box. It was a woman's severed head. Her hair was a deep shade of crimson, her skin pure white tinged with blue from her burgeoning decay. Her eyes might have been green once, but it was hard to tell. The strange jumping spiders that were eating away at the fox had all but devoured her eyes. She watched as they crawled in and out of her mouth and neck, their larvae wriggling around in the rotten meat.

"Isn't she a beauty?" Eileen only stared, frozen in terror. "Come, I'll show you the way out." He moved a couple feet to the edge of the balustrade, and beckoned her to come over. She wanted to run, she wanted to scream, but she didn't dare do a thing that might provoke the child. The sharp chill of winter nearly froze her forming tears to her eyelashes. She grasped the railing and peered over the edge of the tower. What she saw brought forth a terrified whimper from her lips. A body, being picked clean by ravens. She looked in disgust as one of the carrion tore tender skin off the dead man's face and flew off into the gray sky with a beak full of flesh. The man was dressed in long, elegant robes of blue and purple. His hair and lengthy beard were the same shade of aged white. Mother of God, it was Dumbledore down there!

"This is the only way out. Sorry mother." Small, slender hands rammed her back with the strength of a grown man. She screamed so hard her throat nearly burst as she careened backwards towards the Earth. She could still see the child, bending over the railing, his ebony hair fanning out in the wind around a face that was howling with laughter. His words echoed through her brain.

"Sorry, mother."

"Mother."

"Mother."

"Mother!"

"MOTHER!"

Eileen jerked awake with a start, panting heavily as she found her son's hazel eyes looking down at her.

"Mother, I'm bored. I want to-"

She cut him off with a frenzied embrace, holding the small boy to her trembling, cold-sweat drenched body. Looking over his shoulder, she came across the half empty bottle of quaaludes she left on the coffee table. _Looks like Mommy's little helper got the best of me. _Her son's fine, white-blonde hair felt like silk between her fingers as she stroked it. "Oh, my baby. My sweet baby. I had the most horrible dream."

"I'm not a baby!", he said indignantly.

"Oh, Viserus, you'll always be _my_ baby. Don't you forget that.", She whispered, releasing him from her embrace and looking him in the eye. The three-year-old smiled in spite of himself.

"What were you dreaming about, Mom?"

"I dreamed that I had a different little boy...he was nothing like you.", she squeezed her child's hand. "He wasn't like any child that I've ever come across. He was evil and he kept showing me dead things. It was horrible."

"Grandpa says that dreams are like jigsaw puzzles. You get a bunch of pieces of picture, but they don't make any sense because they're all scrambled. But, if you're smart you can put them together, and they'll show you a picture of the future.", he spread his hands in the air in an exaggerated gesture. "I have lots of scary dreams, too. There's one I've had twice. I'm playing Quidditch, and then all of a sudden my body turns into a hamburger and I get sucked into this big, scary white light. After that, a bunch of ladies wearing white tell me I'm in heaven. Grandpa says...if you have the same dream three times that it's sure to come true in real life!" His eyes began to tear and his voice became shaky. "I've had that dream two times, mom. What if...what if I have it a third time?"

She pulled Viserus onto her lap and hugged him close. "Viserus, do you remember that talk we had about Grandpa?"

"The one where you told me that I need to pour salt on him?"

She laughed out loud. "I think you're a little mixed up, sweetling. I said that you need to take what he says with a pinch of salt. It's an old expression. It means that Grandpa...let's just say...isn't always right about everything." He looked up at her with wide eyes that didn't understand or believe how that could ever be possible. She only sighed. "Why don't you go wake up Dad and see if he wants to take you on a broom ride?" His face beamed into a smile and he ran up the stairs. The boy simply adored flying, and it was a treat he seldom got to indulge in, as his father was rarely home, and when he was home, his mind floated off with what flowed through his arm.

Eileen lit a cigarette and dragged deep. Tendrils of smoke hovered and snaked out in the light of the late afternoon sun. She rested her back against the couch and just took a moment to enjoy the sound of silence. It had been a blissfully peaceful week. Aunt Jenny was off on a two week vacation to Hawaii with the Studworths, and Eileen was on a two week vacation from Aunt Jenny. For two whole weeks she was spared the usual barrage of criticism that followed basically anything she did. Her cooking was too bland, she was babying Viserus too much, her taste in clothing was too plain, her tits were too small, she was too skinny...and the list went on. _If that hag walked as much as she bitched, she might actually be in shape_, Eileen mused.

'And Viserus!? What kind of a name is Viserus!?', her Aunt would rant at least once a day. Oh, the flack she caught over that name. Of course, if anyone had actually _been _there when she was in childbed with him, that whole situation might have been avoided. Being that her darling husband was out with God knows who, Aunt Jenny was God knows where, and her father was doing God knows what, she had to apparrate to St. Mungo's alone. When the healers placed the wailing infant into her arms and asked what the boy's name shall be, she had meant to say Severus. However, she was so zonked up on pain potions, that she had responded in a drawled, mess of syllables that sounded something like 'vvvsssserrrrrveersssss', which the hospital clerk had interpreted to Viserus. With no one around to correct her, and it being too late to change the records, Eileen was sent home three days later with a baby boy who bore a slurred perversion of the traditional family name. In truth, deep down, she couldn't think of anything more amusing.

Her little Prince Viserus was truly her only joy in the life she now led. Her relationship with her husband had evolved into a venomous paradox wherein she managed to both hate his absence and his presence. She hated when he was around, ambling around the house with his eyes rolling back in his head like the heroin space cadet that he was. Even more so, she abhorred providing the sex he so vehemently demanded, and he _knew_ it. She had even told him to just get his jollies off with the thralls and just leave her alone. To cousin Severus, however, 'no' meant 'yes', and 'leave me alone' meant 'fuck me harder.' She hated when he wasn't around because of what it would do to Viserus. Through his three-year-old eyes, the drugged up waste of carbon was still his father. A man who, during the rare times he was awake and alert, would bounce him on his knee and take him for broom rides. To a boy that young, she supposed Dad would always take the guise of a ten-foot-tall superhero, regardless of who they actually were behind their upraised mid-peekaboo hands. When he was away, she would often catch Viserus peering out the window with a look of melancholy spread across his small features, wondering when dad would come sauntering up the walkway.

The boy did not lack for male company though, oh no. Good ol' Grandpa had been showing him the ropes of life, death, and the wizarding world before he could even hold his own head up. He would spend hours, just prattling on, and on, and on, throwing reservation and any sense of age apropos to the wind while her boy listened intently and poured over old pictures the man would bring. She had once tried to forbid her father from having contact with her son, when one night Viserus began asking such questions as 'What's a mudblood?', 'What does nuclear winter mean?', and 'Did Adolf Hitler really have a spaceship?'. She had railed on Dr. Prince the next day, asking him if he was out of his mind, screaming that he was never to visit her son again. Of course, her father only met her concerns with his usual 'And how do you propose to stop me?'.

How did she? Three against one, that was the story of her life. She could rage against her husband, but it would only upset Aunt Jenny, who controlled the household's income. She could rage against Aunt Jenny, but that would upset her husband, who controlled the fathering of her son. She could rage against her father, but he had control over Aunt Jenny, who had control over the money and control over her husband, who had control over the fathering of her son. She could rage against all three of them, threaten to leave and never come back, as she did so many times, but all three would cry in chorus 'excommunication from the family forever', and would share the story of the penniless single mother named Eileen Prince who had to whore herself on the ghetto streets just to feed her starving son. And then there was Viserus, who so cherished Dad's broom rides, Grandma's home baked peanut butter cookies, and Grandpa's stories. The little boy who counted down the days to Christmases where he would receive droves of presents and enjoy a night of partying with his Mom, Dad, and Grandparents. Viserus, he controlled her heart, and he was coming down the stairs right now with a used syringe in his hands.

"Mom, Dad won't get up.", he whined, with his tiny fingers wrapped around the barrel of the syringe. Eileen ran to him.

"Viserus, give that to me! Where did you get this!?", She took the syringe out of his hand slowly and carefully, so as to not prick either one of them with the needle and threw it in the trash. Her son cowed at her sudden change of tone.

"It-it was in Dad's arm. I thought he hurt himself, I just wanted to help him.", he shakily explained.

"Listen, sweetheart, I want you to stay right here on the couch. I need to have a talk with your father. Don't move until I come back down to get you, okay?"

He sat down and nodded to her, eyes wide and lips pursed. Turning her back to him, she marched up the stairs, shaking with rage. Cousin Severus had finally gone and done it, he'd shown their boy his habit in all its ugliness, exposed him to drugs, and let him hold a dirty needle. She didn't give a damn what the consequences were, she was going to let him have it, she was going to _kill_ him, only...she wouldn't have to. When she kicked open the door to their bedroom, cousin Severus did not move. He sat propped against the bedside table, caught in a tangle of crimson sheets and blankets that were still half on the mattress. His right arm was a shade of blueish purple that could match the dress she was wearing. The blueish tint crept all the way up his neck towards his mouth, where clumps of white foam were crusting over. His toes were beginning to turn black. A very slight, faint odor was beginning to waft from his body due to the summer heat. At the very least, his eyes were closed, so he merely looked asleep in the eyes of Viserus. Eileen just stared, rubbed her eyes, and stared some more, little by little letting the image in front of her permeate her current reality. As first order of business, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and counted to ten, and then calmly walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

"Viserus, sweetheart!" She called from upstairs.

"Yeah mom?"

"I need you to go to your room and shut the door please."

"Am I in trouble, mom?"

"No, just please, do as I say."

Without another word he scuttled up the stairs and down the opposite hall to his bedroom and did as he was bid. Eileen was not a particularly squeamish person, she had seen death and bodies before...just never close enough to smell. She didn't feel up to going back in the bedroom just yet. She paced up and down the hall, trying as best she could to shake off the initial shock of what just happened and collect her thoughts. _He's dead...he's really dead...the bastard's finally gone and done it. I told him a thousand times that he was going to turn up blue one day if he kept shooting up that shit and now it's finally happened. _There was no love lost between Eileen and her now late husband. There was neither grief nor sadness in her heart, and quite frankly, not even surprise. All there was, was anger. Her husband lay peacefully in his grave a few feet away. The manner of his death was probably painless as falling asleep after a hot meal. The crude, thoughtless, brainless, useless son of a bitch died in total satisfaction.

As for Eileen, she would be the one who would have to look a three-year-old in the eyes and tell him that Daddy was never going to wake up again. She would be the one who would have to face his tears when she told him there would be no more broom rides, because Dad was too in love with a drug that made him sleepy to give any kind of thought to his family. She would be the one who would have to face a thousand questions from Aunt Jenny, and every day from this day forward somehow be blamed for his death because she was his wife and goddamn it she should have done something. She could see it all now, playing out in her head. Her father and Aunt Jenny feeding her son stories about how his mother drove his father to the needle with her frigid ways and did nothing to help him. Her son would grow to hate and resent her, and day by day he would fall deeper into Aunt Jenny and her father's web of insanity. He would drift away from her, grow up, and start spewing racial slurs like 'mudblood' and 'half-breed' left and right. He'd marry a Lestrange or a Studworth, have children of his own and teach them what he'd been taught, leaving his mother forgotten and alone.

With shaking hands, she lit another cigarette and leaned against the railing at the landing of the stairs. She turned her eyes toward the huge tapestry that hung above the main doors of the home. It illustrated the Prince family tree. At the far edge of it, she could see Viserus' little white haired head which had just been added. Her eyes absently followed the intricate web of faces and names that spanned 40 centuries, traveling upward as the skin tone of each face slowly went from sallow white, to lightly tanned, to dark. Further upward, the English alphabet ended and Egyptian hieroglyphics began. Her eyes scanned all the way up until she reached the top, which of course was none other than Severus The Conqueror, flanked by his two sister-wives. _How do you like us now?_, she mentally asked the image on the tapestry, which stared stoically down at her through cold, black eyes painted with cat-like eyeliner. _What would you say if you knew that one of your supposed 'great descendants' is lying dead in the next room like a common muggle junkie? Would you still look so goddamn smug up there, you great hardass?_

Eileen thought back to one of her father's visits to the house. It was late at night and she had just put Viserus to bed. She was deep in her cups already and her father had just settled down on the couch and began pouring himself a drink. Her mind was hazily drifting through memories of old events, and a question occurred to her. She turned to her father and asked, 'So, is this one, Dad? Is this your great king come again? Is this what I had to sell my life for? Will little Viserus be our promised champion that we just had to have?' Her voice dripped mocking sarcasm, but as always, her father's face betrayed no emotion. 'He's a good boy.', he replied, taking a swig of his scotch. That was it. After all his diatribe of conquerors and kings that had been the driving force of Eileen's arranged marriage, that was all the old man had to say about the final product. Did he just happen to forget about his obsession over his little prophecy? Or, was he, for some reason, waiting for something else? Eileen honestly didn't care. Her life was what it was and there was nothing she could do to change it. Like it or not though, it had now changed all by itself. While she could abide what it had been for the past four years, she knew the misery that was sure to come would break her.

Unless..._the safe._ There was a safe in the bedroom that contained all the money her husband had on hand at any given time. Aunt Jenny may have been a mollycoddler, but she wasn't an idiot. She knew if cousin Severus had free reign over the family's money it would be pissed away in a matter of weeks. Therefore, she regulated his funds in the form of a monthly allowance which he kept locked away in the safe. There was never a king's ransom in there, but it was usually a good, hard sum. Eileen had snuck a peek at her husband dialing in the combination one night, and for some time stole galleons from the safe for shopping trips here and there, as she was allowed no personal funds of her own. When cousin Severus discovered money was slowly going missing, he charmed the safe so none but he could open it. Now that he was dead...his magic was dead with him.

Eileen darted back into the bedroom, doing her best to avert her eyes from the corpse and ignore the odor. Carefully, she input the combination. A surge of excitement shot through her as she heard the satisfying _click _and opened up the little door. As fast as she could, she counted out a total of 3,000 galleons and stuffed them in her purse. It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough to get her and Viserus room and board for a while in England. It was enough to start a new life for her and her son. _He's lost his father, _a voice in her head told her,_ you would have him lose his beloved grandmother and grandfather, too? All in the same day? _Eileen knew that if she left for England there would be no turning back. She'd have to sever all contact with her family forever. While that was no tragedy to her,it would hurt Viserus terribly. It may hurt him for a long time. However, he was only three. He would heal. He would forget. She would rather bestow upon her son one period of pain and grief than a lifetime of brainwashing by insane blood purists and wannabe royals.

Hurriedly, she pulled out her suitcases from the closet and began to pack all the belongings she would need. Clothes, toiletries, a select few favorite books, brushes, jewels, shoes, and...the glimmering gold and emerald artifact caught her eye from the ornate showcase in which it was housed. The crown of Severus The Conqueror. _We could live for years on what that crown would yield, should we sell it to a museum..._ She sauntered slowly to the showcase, carefully opening the glass. As she raised her fingers to the crown, however, an unpleasant knot formed in her stomach. Something about this...just felt wrong. She recalled an article she once read about the RMS Titanic. Supposedly, a wealthy American archeologist had brought the mummified remains of the princess of Amen-Ra on board the ship, meaning to transport them to New York. Legend had it that the mummy was cursed. Eileen was never a superstitious woman and rarely gave thought to the paranormal, but...2,000 people went to their icy deaths on that boat. Severus The Conqueror's crown was said to be cursed as well; that it would bring death and misery to those who wore it unjustly. To have that crown in her possession just felt strangely unclean to her. Besides, it was a fresh, new life she wanted, away from all the ludicrous, antiquated traditions and customs of the Princes. She decided to leave the crown behind.

Eileen once again turned to the corpse of her husband. She noticed uncomfortably that a small crowd of fruit flies were beginning to explore his milk-white and purple flesh. Holding her breath, she bent down and flicked off the gold watch he was wearing, then stripped him of his chains and rings as well. Lastly, she removed the two ridiculous looking golden earrings he always insisted on wearing. With them gone, he might have actually looked better, if he wasn't dead. After she packed away the jewelery , she grabbed the comforter from the bed and respectfully laid it over cousin Severus' corpse. It was, after all, the least she could do.

Backing away from the body, she carefully scanned over the room, seeing if there was anything else worth taking. Her eyes fell to five porcelain figurines on the dresser. How could she forget? As much as she wanted to leave her old life behind, she would not abandon the Night Crew. The little figures had always represented the happy times in her youth, the days worth remembering. Grabbing some old Daily Prophet pages from the bedside table, she carefully wrapped up the dark prince, the mystic princess, the innocent unicorn, the golden knight, and the hard at work blacksmith, and set them inside the suitcase. She had packed all she needed, but now came the hardest part. She took one last sweeping look around the room, knowing it would be the last time she would ever do so, grabbed her luggage, walked out and shut the door behind her. Down the opposite end of the hallway was her son in his bedroom. Her little boy who thought his Dad was merely sleeping too heavily, who had no idea that this would be his last day in his home, and expected a fun filled visit from his Grandfather before the week was out.

Eileen walked down the hall and opened the door to his bedroom with a heart as heavy as lead. She searched and searched her mind, but the words just could not be found.

"Viserus, dearheart, I...I...I need you to pack up your things."

"Why, mom?"

_Why?_ "Because...we're going on a trip."

A look of confusion spread over the child's features. "Why? Where are we going?"

_Why, why, why...the eternal why of a child. This isn't going to be easy._ Eileen knelt down to her son's level, feigning a look of excitement on her face. "Sweetheart, do you know how you're always telling me how badly you want to take a ride on the Knight Bus?"

He nodded. "Well guess what?"

"What?"

"Today, we're gonna get to take a ride on the Knight Bus all the way to England! Just you and me! Won't that be so much fun!", She smiled and batted her eyes at him.

The child beamed. "Really!?"

"Yes! Now you make sure you collect up all the toys you want to bring and Mommy will help pack up your clothes, okay?"

He nodded, smiling from ear to ear, and began fritzing around the room, not knowing what to pack first. _Well that accomplished something, at least... _In between folding Viserus' little garments and packing them away, Eileen called up the Knight Bus customer service line and requested pickup for the first bus bound to England. At 6:30 p.m., her and Viserus would be boarding bus #1202, which would take them from Frankfurt to a town called Spinner's End, in Cokeworth, England. _A place I've never been to, a place I've never heard of, a place I'd have no reason to be, a place my father or aunt or anyone else would never think to look..._

At promptly 6:25 p.m., Eileen and Viserus stood at the front curb, luggage in hand. For the moment at least, the little boy had forgotten about his not-so-sleeping father, he was so excited about getting to ride the Knight Bus. Pangs of guilt gnawed at her chest at the sight of his carefree smile. She had to break the news to him somehow. Viserus was not a dull-witted boy, he would notice something was off about all of this sooner rather than later. For now though, all she wanted was to be safely on the bus, out of the open, low hanging evening sunlight which left her feeling so exposed. She felt a sense of foreboding in the air, an unpleasant, too-quiet stillness that bespoke something going wrong. Nervously, she glanced at her watch. _6:28_..._Come on.. _

And then, at the very edge of her hearing, there it was. The all too familiar _swish_ and _pop_ of someone apparrating nearby. _Mother of God, not now... _Apparrating guests always entered through the back door, so as to be out of sight by the various muggle residences on the street. She knew that for the moment at least, she had not been seen. _Maybe whoever it is inside will assume we're not home, that I took Viserus to the playground...maybe they'll just leave, they won't think to go upstairs, to open the door to the bedroom. _She glanced at her watch again. _6:29._ _Please, please, please..._

"Grandpa!"

_Fuck._

He would have run straight into the man's arms, had she not grabbed him by the collar. The child looked up at her, frightened and confused. Her father stood at the front door, his expression unreadable.

"Eileen, what is all this? Where are you going?"

Her blood turned to ice in her veins. Her mouth moved in vain to form words that could not be found. She had the look of a dear in headlights as her child struggled against her grasp. The sound of an engine slowly approached, and a moment later, a tall, purple bus came into view. In one fell swoop, her father's expression changed from guarded suspicion, to understanding, to unhinged fury.

"EILEEN! DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!", He broke into a run. Even at the age of 50, Dr. Prince could still beat most teenagers at a footrace.

The Knight Bus opened its doors. Eileen seized her son by his clothes and threw him on the bus, followed by the baggage. The driver, a wisp of a young man, only stared wide-eyed.

"EEEEAAAHGH!" Eileen shrieked as her father's thin, bony fingers wrapped around her ankle and yanked. Her hands and knees scraped along the pavement, but she managed to scurry back to her feet, like an animal struggling against a predator. Viserus began to cry. The driver's eyes grew ever wider.

"Eileen! Get my grandson off that bus! What the hell do you think you're doing!?", His face was twisted with rage, spittle was flying from his mouth.

"I'm LEAVING! I'm DONE! I'm done with this family and I'm done with YOU! I won't have my son being raised around you degenerates anymore! And by the way, my ever-so-loving and cherished husband is DEAD! His corpse is in the bedroom, you can deal with the funeral expenses.", Her voice was cracked from shrieking.

Her father was breathing heavily. His voice dropped to a low growl. "You...I'll find you. Wherever you go, I will find you, you _cunt_."

"Save your energy for Aunt Jenny, Father, she's going to want a good romp in the sack to take her mind off her dead son. Or, is he _your_ dead son, too? It wouldn't surprise me in the least."

Dr. Prince lunged at his daughter in a maelstrom of unbridled fury, but Eileen was prepared. He cried out loud when her fist connected with his face, shattering his glasses and sending him flying backwards. Before her father could regain his footing, Eileen scrambled up onto the bus. The driver sat there, gaping.

"What are you doing!? DRIVE!"

Snapping out of his trance, the driver quickly closed the sliding doors and put the bus in gear. Eileen caught one last glimpse of her father. Rivulets of blood ran down his face where shards of his ruined glasses dug into his flesh. His mouth ran wildly, spewing a string of profanity she would never hear, whilst he shook his fists. She turned towards the other passengers on board, all of which were staring at her with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"AND WHAT ARE ALL OF YOU GAWKING AT!?", She shook her fist, which she now realized was dripping blood and had several chunks of glass sticking out of it. The other patrons of the bus hurriedly looked away and whispered amongst themselves. Grabbing onto a handrail, she took a moment to catch her breath and let a bit of her raging adrenaline subside before loading her luggage in the compartment of the nearest seat.

"M-m-mommy? Dad is...d-d-dead? Why did you hit Grandpa? What's going on?"

She turned to find his little cherubic face stricken with abject horror. _Shit._ She did not want him to find out this way. Gently, she lifted him up and took her seat, cradling him on her lap. His tears shimmered in the light of the setting sun.

"Sweetheart, I..."

"We're never going back home again, are we, Mommy?" _He was not a dull-witted boy._

"No, sweetling, no we're not. Your father won't be waking up again. And your grandpa, he's a bad man, a very bad man. One day, when you're older, I'll explain why-"

"I don't believe you!", He cried in a voice brimming with sorrow and anger. "It's just like Grandpa says! You're a..a..a..a BITCH!"

"Viserus! That talk stops right here, young man!", She wondered what other colorful poetry her father had taught the boy.

"No! It's not fair! Why do we have to leave home? Grandpa never did anything wrong!", _Yes he did, Viserus, he cut up little kids like you and brewed their organs in his cauldron. But he probably told you Auschwitz was full of candy and fairy dust, didn't he?_

"Viserus, I know it seems unfair right now, but believe me, one day you'll understand that things are better this way."

"That's bullshit, Mom-"

"Viserus!"

"I want to go home! I want Grandma and Grandpa!" He began to sob in earnest; breathing in deeply and letting out screams of pure anguish. The sound of his cries carried through all three floors of the bus, as only a toddler's could. Eileen popped a quaalude and held her head in her hands. _Well, this is going just swimmingly, isn't it?_

"Hey, lady! How about you shut that kid up!", One of the second floor passengers hollered.

"How about you go screw yourself!", Whoever was up there backed off. Luckily, Viserus didn't hear her words over his tantrum. She didn't need to be teaching her son more filth. Nevertheless, she was not about to tolerate his ear-splitting screams for the next 7 hours. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a bottle of Kool Aid, Viserus' favorite drink. Turning her back to him, she pulled out a small vial of purple liquid as well. In one swift motion she discreetly poured the Draught of the Living Death into the Kool Aid. _If all else fails..._

"Viserus, sweetie", She gently shook him and he turned to her, hyperventilating with a face beat red from crying. He looked at the bottle hungrily. "Why don't you take a drink, dear?"

Shakily, he took the bottle and slowly began to down the sugary spiked beverage. When he was finished, he made to start up his hysterics again, but the scream that escaped his lips quickly dipped to a low moan, and then silence. His head slumped and lightly hit the seat in front of him with a soft _thump_. Eileen slid the boy's body to a prone position on the seat and laid his head on her lap. Stroking his soft, white-blonde hair, she shifted her gaze out the window, absently watching the scenery fly by as the pleasantly dizzying effects of the quaalude began to kick in. She drifted off to sleep as the sun disappeared behind the hills, somewhere between Brussels and Ghent.

It was 1:25 a.m. when the driver announced 'This stop: Railview Hotel, Spinner's End.' Eileen gently nudged Viserus awake and collected her baggage. The child took her hand, still half asleep. Hopefully, he wouldn't regain full awareness until morning, granting Eileen time for a much needed hot shower. She tipped the driver, exited the bus, and made her way towards the most shit-shod hotel she had ever seen.

When she entered the dimly lit, hideously tacky-wallpapered lobby, she could smell the distinct aroma of body odor and cat piss, with just a smattering of marijuana. On the wall directly in front of her hung a needlework sampler. It read: _"Progress for progress' sake is not progress at all_." At the front desk, a hunchbacked, white-haired old woman snored with her head on her hand. Eileen cautiously approached and rang the service bell.

"What in tarnation!- Oh, a customah!", Eileen made the uncomfortable observation that the woman's mouth bore only three rotting teeth. Her breath reflected it.

"Excuse me, ma'am. I'll be needing a room for two."

"Wassat, miss? I can't hears ya! Ya gots to speak up!"

"I'll be needing a room for two!"

"Huh? What? These ol' ears, miss, they dun work so good no more. Ah hell, Tobeh! Tobeh, get down here and help ya mothah out!", She called upstairs.

"I'm busy, mom!", A gruff sounding voice answered.

"Like hell ya are, ya good for nuthin' freeloadah! Get ya ass down here and help me with this customah!"

"Jesus Christ!"

She heard shuffling coming from upstairs, and then a tall man, clad in workboots, blue jeans and a white wife-beater came stomping down the steps. Light, mouse brown hair framed blue-gray eyes in a shaggy, unkempt, obvious home-haircut. He looked upon her down a hooked nose as his masculine, 5 o' clock shadow bearing jaw momentarily shifted into a welcoming half-grin. That was when Eileen Prince found Tobias Snape handsome for the first time.

"Can I help ya?"

"Yes, I-I...need a room for two, please. The name is Prince."

He jotted down a few things on a logbook which lay open on the desk. "Alright, the room will be 35 a night. You'll be in number 27. I'll, uh, help ya with your things.", He stepped out from behind the desk. At the sight of Viserus, his features softened. He knelt down to the drowsy child's level. "'Ey there, little buddy! You're out quite past your bedtime, ain't ya?", Smiling playfully, he ruffled the boy's hair.

Viserus sniffled. "My Daddy is never going to wake up again."

The man's smile faded to a look of awkwardness, and then sorrow. "I'm, uh, sorry to hear that, son.", He said, rubbing the boy's shoulder. He rose back up, his sympathetic eyes meeting Eileen's. She dropped her gaze from his.

"It's a long story.", She spoke softly, her tired eyes looking at the floor.

An awkward silence spread over them. "Maybe you'll tell it to me sometime, hun. Anyway, you folks must be bushed. I'll show ya to the room.", He relieved her of the luggage and led them down the hall to room number 27, and then handed her the key.

"By the way, my name's Tobias Snape, but most folks around here call me Toby.", He held out his hand, which she shook. It was rough and callous. The hands of the proletariat.

"I'm Eileen Prince.", She smiled back at him. "Oh, here.", She reached into her wallet and grabbed a few bills to tip him, but he raised his hand.

"Nah, miss, don't ya worry about it. You just take care of yourself now, ya hear?"

She nodded, and turned the key to her room.

The wallpaper inside the small, double twin bedded space somehow managed to be the most garish yet. It was tearing in places and the ceiling showed several spots of water damage. The carpet reeked of cigarette smoke. She paid no mind, though. Viserus rubbed his eyes and would have nearly collapsed on the floor, had she not scooped him up in her arms. She brought him over to the bed nearest the window and tucked him in, kissing him lightly on the forehead before she strode over to the bathroom.

_This day feels like it's spanned a thousand years, _ she mused as she slid off her dress, wanting nothing more than to climb in the shower, relax, and attempt to process the events that had taken place within the last 24 hours. She slid open the shower curtain...and felt her heart stop in her chest.

Crawling along the white porcelain of the tub, was a large insect. It bore the body of a cockroach, and the long, arched legs of a spider.


	4. Toxic Love

"**Never regret yesterday. Life is in you today, and you make your tomorrow." -L. Ron Hubbard**

"You know, Sev, you really are going to be sorry one day if you don't learn how to swim.", Lily chided, flipping her crimson hair over one shoulder.

"Oh, Sevvy, I'm sure you'd have a blast swimming if you would just try it!", Aunt Jenny encouraged sweetly.

"What's the matter, _Snivellus_? Nobody ever teach you how to swim?", James Potter jeered, while Sirius Black guffawed.

"You know, Sev, they're offering free swimming lessons down at the Y this summer, maybe you'd be interested?", His mother suggested. Afterwards, tears welled in her eyes for some strange reason.

"When I was a boy, mah Daddy threw us off the docks to teach us how to swim, sure did get our asses in gear, that it did.", his father told him.

"You're not _really_ afraid of water, are you?", Tom Riddle asked.

"Oh come now Severus, you won't drown if you know what you're doing.", His grandfather reassured him.

"D'aawww, isn't that adorable? Wittle Sevvy _shitblood _is afwaid of the water!", Viserus mocked cruelly.

"You know, I used to be afraid of water too. I could...hold your hand, if you like.", Dave offered in a sheepish, quivering voice.

"Seriously, butt munch, the Earth is 70% water. You're going to have a run-in with it sooner or later." His sister teased, licking the mayonnaise off her spoon.

_And that was the echo of every voice I should have listened to. Too little, too late._

_The moment I opened my eyes to discover I was still breathing, I wish I hadn't._

_For half a heartbeat the only sensation I felt was the midday sun searing my retinas and the ocean dangerously rocking to and fro the slab of driftwood that was my only barrier between life and death. Shifting my eyes downward, the first thing I noticed was that my skin was no longer white. None of it. What hadn't been baked an angry shade of scarlet by the sun had been fried black by the fire. Gritting my teeth until they nearly shattered, I managed to raise my right arm. The sound was something akin to bacon on a skillet, and I tried not to notice the large flacks of skin that had simply chipped off with my movement, revealing strings of an opaque, mucusey membrane and the raw, pink tissue underneath. _

_Brushing my trembling fingers against my face, I realized that half my hair had burnt away, but that was by and far the least of my worries. With every slight movement of my body I could feel the flesh on my back, or rather the lack thereof, screaming in white-hot protest. I recalled a story Viserus had been feeling pleasant enough to share on a long car ride once, years ago. It was about some family who left their diabetic, open sore ridden and immobile grandmother on the couch for months and months, never bothering to move or tend to her. _'They forgot all about her', _he had said, holding his illuminated wand under his chin for dramatic effect. _'After a while, the open flesh on her body accepted the material on the couch as its own, and began to bond with it, and when the authorities finally came...they found her FUSED to the couch!'

_'You're full of shit, Viserus.' That's what I had told him, at the time. In all my years of research and experiments, I had never dabbled into anything involving human flesh bonding with a foreign material, never really given any thought to it at all. Why would I? But, could it...really happen that way? Either way, I knew that if the raw, flayed mess of my back were to get infected, it would be an ugly death indeed. It would be quicker and more merciful to just roll off this plank right now and let the sea take me. And mother of Christ, this side of my skin needs a break from this constant scorching sunlight. There's only one thing left to do... and make it quick, just like ripping off a band-aid._

_I take a deep breath, and then another, and another; holding the last one in my chest._

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

Rrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip. _"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! FUCK! GODDAMNIT!"_

_In one swift motion, I had managed to turn myself over without capsizing the plank. I had also discovered first hand what it must be like to be a wounded and abandoned grandmother slowly fusing to a piece of furniture. Looking down, I could see remnants of my forming scar tissue that had bonded with the wood. I could feel warm trickles of blood mingling with the sweat that was running down my raw, searing back and it was all I could do to breathe as tears of pure agony began to blur my vision. _

_For a half-crazed moment it seemed as if my screams were echoing off of the very sea and sky, as I heard a roaring, tearing sound in the distance, and then my rattled mind registered what it was. A helicopter. I craned my neck upwards so fast that it sent a fresh wave of pain shooting down my skinned back, but nevertheless, there it was, chopping through the sky._

"_HEEEEEEEEYYY!"_

_I desperately began to wave my arms, but every movement I made threatened to overturn the plank._

"_HELP ME! PLEEEEAAASE!"_

_The chopper was directly above my head but showed no signs of slowing. I shifted my weight left and managed to pivot the driftwood 180 degrees._

"_HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLP!"_

_It was no use. The helicopter was well on it's way across the horizon and I had no means of gaining the attention of its pilot. And I was on a piece of driftwood, in the middle of open ocean, thousands of miles off the coast of...wherever this was, burnt to a crisp, without food or water, and I couldn't swim. This is what it means to be fucked. Wholly, sincerely, and completely. Breathing heavily, I curled my burnt hands into fists and gazed out into the sky, towards a mercilessly hot sun and an uncaring God._

"_Why?", It was the only word my dry, cracked lips could form in this given set of circumstances. "WHY!?", I pounded the driftwood with my fist as fury and desperation overtook me. "WHHHHHYYYYYYY!?", I pounded with both fists, then felt my heart stop as the plank nearly toppled. Hyperventilating and wide-eyed, I froze, silently saying every prayer I knew until the plank leveled out once more. I sunk back down flat on my stomach, trembling. There wasn't the vaguest sight of land in any direction. Just blue, as far as the eye could see. So much blue it was hard to tell where the sea ended and the sky began._

_I suppose this is where most men would reflect, wondering what in the cruel, unforgiving world they could have done to deserve such a fate. In my case, however, the point was moot. Any level-headed soul that knew my story probably couldn't write a more fitting ending for it themselves. Above, God must have been weeping with laughter. Below, the devil was setting aside a room for me in Hell. Here on Earth, every nerve ending I had was crying in agony and my corpse would never be found. _

_All of a sudden, the cobalt waves looked rather inviting. _Just 5 minutes of suffocation, 5 minutes and the pain would be over... _I let the fingers of my left hand dangle over the driftwood. The water was surprisingly luke-warmish to the touch, unlike the Pacific, which I had been accustomed to. I brought my face closer to the surface of the deep blue, tasting the scent of the salty waves, and then...my eyes happened to lock on the inkwork of the skull and snake which had been tattooed on my left forearm. _

_That motherfucker is prancing around in my crown right now, isn't he?_

_The thought was enough to numb my screaming flesh. I could see him in my mind's eye, as clear as the sky overhead; his crooked, snaggletoothed, idiotic grin threatening to split his obtuse, overly round, shaven-bald head. A face so happy and content to be that much closer to Tom Riddle's asshole now that the seat at his right hand was empty. The seat of a King now occupied with an over-eager slave. The Death Eaters had about one brain cell in which they shared between themselves, but it was always Mulciber who seemed determined to style himself as the craftiest. Crafty enough even to almost rid the world of Severus Amadeus Snape._

_Almost. _

_This is not how, or where it ends. This CAN'T be how it ends. I'm far from done. A pawn shall not interfere in a battle between Kings._

…_..._

The screen of heavy smog that was the horizon of Spinner's End began to fade from black to a sooty, dark gray at dawn's first light. A river the color of road mud led to a silhouette of row houses, seedy businesses, an old church, and towering at the center of it all, the nuclear power plant, which belched fresh poison into the sky. In an alleyway alongside the Railview Hotel, a vagabond screamed.

"EVERYTHING YOU'VE EVER BEEN TAUGHT BY MODERN PSYCHIATRY IS WRONG! BIOLOGY DOES NOT EXIST! UNLOCK THE SECRETS OF YOUR MIND! YOUR POTENTIAL IS LIMITLESS!"

Eileen's eyes shot open and fell upon the clock at the bedside table. _5:00 a.m. Goddamnit. Every thrice-be-damned morning... _Still half-asleep, she rolled out of bed and strode over to the window.

"YOUR SOUL POSSESSES POWER BEYOND MAN'S WILDEST DREAMS! FREE YOURSELF OF YOUR CORPOREAL PRISON! ASCEND TO A HIGHER PLA-"

"JON!"

The tan-skinned gypsy ceased his bellowing and spun on his heel, his golden eyes, one of which was tattooed over with a curved, black line, regarded Eileen with excitement. "Eileen! My queen! My sweetest little dream! For what angel in heaven smiles down upon me that a vision of such beauty should speak my name?" His heavy French accent seasoned his words with a melodic ring.

"Cut the shit, Jon. Do you have any idea what time it is?", She spoke through clenched teeth.

"But of course! It is time we STOLE BACK THE POWER OF OUR INFINITE CONSCIOUSNESS FROM OUR MASTERS! IT IS TIME WE BROKE THE CHAINS OF MENTAL SLAVERY TO THE OVERLORD! I, HONEST JON, WILL SHOW YOU HOW!", He waved his fists in an exaggerated gesture.

Eileen held her aching head in her hands and tried to fend off the migraine that was slowly forming as the lunatic before her, dressed in filthy rags so mismatched it could pass for a jester's motley, grabbed a book out of the shopping cart he was pushing around and began to read:

"THIS EARTH IS NOTHING MORE THAN A PRISON PLANET! HUMANITY'S LIMITATIONS ARE NAUGHT MORE THAN AN ILLUSION PERPETUATED BY THE OVERLORD!"

"Jon!", His mouth snapped shut immediately once he saw the gold coins on her palm. He bent forward to take them, bringing himself so close to her that she could smell the filth and grime of all the baths he didn't take. When he outstretched his hand, she retracted hers. "You'll have this on one condition. I'm sure that your scripture is nothing short of fascinating. But, get it through your head, Honest Jon, that I have a young child in this room, and neither he nor I care to be awoken at ungodly hours by your incessant shouting. So, either you start your morning routine elsewhere, or I call the cops. Again."

For a split second, something very ugly flashed through the features of Honest Jon. When his usual mask of joviality fell, it revealed a visage as cold and trenchant as the acid rain that so often poured over the town. Before she could blink though, his plastic smile was once again beaming down at her.

"As you wish, _mademoiselle_.", He bowed low, sending a strand of greasy, salt-and-pepper hair falling over his eye. She tossed the coins his way. He picked them up and produced a pen from his pocket. "For your generosity, my sweet, an autographed copy of my book, just for you!" She managed to feign a polite enough smile as he scrawled his name on one of the tomes in his shopping cart and handed it to her. "_Au revoir, salope_.", He flashed her a charming grin and was on his way.

Sighing, she closed the window and collapsed back onto her threadbare twin bed. The cover art on the book depicted a scene that wouldn't look out of place in a cheezy science fiction movie. A giant, menacing space alien pulled on leashes which were attached to naked human beings crawling on all fours. Behind the alien, a volcano was erupting, spewing hot lava into the heavens. Sins of the Puppet Master was printed at the top, in large, loud, block letters. Inscribed on the inside of the cover, in gaudy cursive, was: _To my sweet Eileen, may the light of truth illuminate you always. Yours truly, R. Jon Delacour_. She laid the book aside on the table and ran her fingers through her long, ebony hair. Her fingers caught on tangles from a fitful night's sleep. When she rested her head back on her pillow, however, she found sleep would not come. Goddamn that bloody lunatic. She turned to the bed next to her, where a tiny lump under the cheap, tacky comforters snored softly.

It had been one month since she fled Germany, and yesterday had been the first evening Viserus had gone to bed without fuss nor tears. As of late, the child truly did begin to level out emotionally. While he was still miles away from his old, bouncy, smiling self, he was slowly but surely showing signs of accepting the situation around him. His daily inquiries of 'When are we going back to Grandma's?' had dropped from about fifteen per day to five. His suicide attempts, which consisted of stomping his little feet and shouting 'Take us back to Grandma's or I'll hold my breath until I die!', had receded to about three per week, and he would give up, gasping, sooner every time. She had even heard laughter from the boy's lips for the first time in four weeks just the other day. They had been in the lobby ordering fresh towels, when the innkeep, Mrs. Snape, had bent over to pick up a fallen pen and broke wind quite loudly.

In addition, she had neither seen nor heard of any sign of her father, Aunt Jenny, or anyone connected with the Prince family at all since leaving. A mischievous side of her would always wonder what sort of temper tantrum her father must have thrown after she had left him bleeding and humiliated in the street of her old home. She had also often found herself trying to imagine what the look on her Aunt Jenny's face must have been when she came home to find that her son had taken a one way trip to Cloud 9 and would never be coming back. Most of all, she wondered what it must have felt like for them, to have to accept that in the end, she had won. Her and Viserus would never again be their pawns to control, and if there was one thing her father couldn't abide, it was losing control.

Everything so far was going according to plan, except for one thing: They were slowly but steadily going broke. Between hotel fare, food, and other odds and ends, money was draining and none was coming in. One of the first things Eileen had done upon her arrival to Spinner's End was send an owl to old Professor Slughorn back at Hogwarts, asking if he could pull any favors for his proclaimed 'best potion brewer of 1949'. His response was short and sweet: 'I do wish I could help you, but I'm afraid I see hundreds of students come and go each year and your name doesn't ring a bell. Have a nice day!' That answered that question. From there, she hit the classifieds, applying to apothecaries, alchemical research facilities, and all sorts of healers' offices in need of a potion brewer. Optimistic as she was in the beginning, her hopes steadily began to fall when after every interview she was presented with the same damning words: 'Sorry dear, but we're looking for someone with a bit more experience.' That phrase was becoming more and more like a punch to the gut every time.

Since sleep was no longer an option, she figured she may as well start the day. Lighting a cigarette, she stepped into the bathroom and started up the shower, undressing while she waited for the water to get steaming hot. When she stepped in, the combination of nicotine and piping hot water running down her back and untying every knot in her tense, aching shoulders was nothing short of heaven. She dragged deep on the cig, and began to visualize and mentally rehearse what she'd say at today's interview. She breathed a little easier, knowing that the expected qualifications for this place would be minimal at best. It was a little mom and pop type trinket shop located on Knockturn Alley called Borgin and Burkes. As much as she felt the position was beneath her, she supposed she would have to swallow her pride and bear it, for she was quickly running out of options. For a split second, the ever smug face of her father appeared in her mind's eye. _'You'll be penniless and whoring your body on the street, and believe me princess, syphilis is no picnic.'_ God, how he always smiled when he said that...

She quickly shook it off and went to fetch Viserus for his shower.

When the clock struck noon, Eileen smoothed out her black, business casual dress and grabbed the floo powder she kept on the table. Taking a reluctant Viserus by the hand, she made her way down the corridor to the lobby, which managed to be poorly lit even at midday. The scents of other guest's cooking mingled and melded together into one noxious cloud of salt and grease. Her interview was not until one, but she preferred to use the lobby fireplace when she knew the hotel was at its emptiest. Mrs. Snape was in her upstairs apartment eating lunch, her son was off working at wherever he worked, and the rest of the staff was out on break. The only sounds that could be heard were the footsteps from upstairs, an infant's wailing, and the couple that stayed in room 42, who seemed to be in a constant state of near-violent argument.

"Now Viserus, I don't want to hear any word from Mrs. Greene about you bothering the girls today, am I clear?", She warned her son.

"But _Mom_, I don't _wanna_ go to stupid daycare! It's just a bunch of stupid babies! They don't even have TV.", The boy crossed his little arms over his chest and stomped his feet.

"Well I'm sorry that I can't take you with me, but this is grown-up business. How about this, if you behave for Mrs. Greene today I'll take you to Florean's after. Do we have a deal?"

He looked up at her with wary eyes, trying hard to conceal his inticement. "Fine.", He murmured quietly.

"Alright then, are you ready?" He nodded. She reached into the bag of floo powder, taking out enough for the both of them and knelt in front of the flames.

"I could round up some more firewood if you like!"

She screamed and whirled around, her fistful of floo powder flying everywhere and her heart jumping into her throat. She was met with the confused features of Tobias Snape.

"Didn't mean to scare you there, sweetheart.", He smiled softly. He donned a hard hat and a plain blue jumpsuit style uniform. Embroidered on the left side of his chest was a symbol resembling an atom, under which read: _'Cokeworth Energy'._

"It's alright, I just...didn't expect anyone to be here. Aren't you usually working around now?"

"Meh, the big wigs up in management sent everyone home. Something about a leak in the reactor, yet again.", He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Are you...sure that's safe? I mean, for everyone around here?"

"Well of course it's safe! Nuclear energy is just about the safest darn thing there is. They tell us at the plant at least every other day. You ain't got nothin' to worry about, darlin'." His blue eyes lit up as he smiled and rubbed her on the shoulder as a friendly gesture.

Judging from the acid rain which frequently fell over town and some of the bizarrely deformed animals she occasionally spied wandering the streets, she severely doubted his words. Oh, but she did love it when he called her 'darlin'. She could not deny that. "So, how long until the leak is fixed?", She asked conversationally.

"They say it should be all patched up in two or three days. So, I guess I'll just be cooling my heels until then.", He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet. "Say, you never did have someone show you a proper tour of our here town, now did ya?", He perked up.

"No...no, I suppose not."

"Well uh, it looks like I ain't got nothin' on the ol' to do list for the next couple of days. What do you say we paint the town red?"

"I have somewhere to be until around two-thirty, but...after that I'm free- oh-", She looked down towards Viserus at her feet, who was impatiently waiting for the grown-ups to get done talking. "I'm afraid it would be impossible to flag a sitter down on such short notice."

"Nonsense! My Mah could watch the little feller."

"Oh, I couldn't bear to trouble her."

"No trouble at all, she loves kids. The old bat won't quit yammerin' that it's high time I gave her some grandbabies.", He chuckled.

She knelt to Viserus' level. "Would it be okay if you stayed with Mrs. Snape when we got back?"

At first he furrowed his little eyebrows at her, but then his features shifted to a look of neutrality. "Does she have a TV?"

"You bet your bottom she does, little feller. Fifteen whole channels too.", Tobias said, ruffling Viserus' hair.

Viserus shrugged. "Okay."

Tobias turned back to Eileen. "Well then, I guess I'll be meetin' you back around here at say, three?"

"Yes, that'll be fine.", She smiled and felt warmth rise in her cheeks.

"It's a date then.", He grinned and tipped his hat to her slightly in a cowboy-ish gesture that made her cheeks flush all the more.

"Tobeh! Is that you down there? I think the stove up here is busted again, Tobeh! Can ya help me out?", Mrs. Snape suddenly called from upstairs.

Toby rolled his eyes. "I better tend to Mah before she done ruptures herself. I'll see you at three, darlin'." He waved and took the stairs two at a time.

Eileen simply stood still for a moment, grinning as she began to feel butterflies tickle her stomach. A sensation foreign to her for over a decade.

"Are we gonna get going?", Viserus asked, trying his best to remain polite.

She was so caught up in her own giddiness she had forgotten he was standing there, and that she had places to go and people to see. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she took Viserus by the hand and transported them through the fireplace.

**A/N: Special thanks to Professor Radar for the wonderful reviews, to HwaseungOz as well for the critique. Short chapter, I know, but it just felt like a good place to end it. Spinner's End is a very easy and fun place to write about when you live in Jersey, they're very similar. This story is also up on Wattpad and DeviantArt under the same name with "illustrations", and by illustrations I mean shit that I threw together in MS paint, but they're there if anyone wants a visual aid as to what Dr. Prince or my interpretations of other characters look like, as well as scenes from the story. Hope everyone is enjoying so far, stay classy, stay true to your Grandpa, rest well, and dream of large women.**


	5. Have A Cigar

"**If you're going to do something, do it well, and leave something witchy." -Charles Manson**

"_HIDEY HO, KIDS!"_

"_Hidey ho, Weebo..."_

"_I can't hear yooou!"_

"_HIDEY HO, WEEBO!",_ _There lies a strange undertone of uneasiness just below the surface of the childrens' shouts. It's then that an out of tune piano starts to play a jaunty yet discordant tune, and Avery, dressed from head to toe in star spangled motley, begins to sing._

"_Ooooooh, I'm Weebo the Wacky Wizard, _

_And we're here to have some fun!_

_When it comes to making magic,_

_I know every trick under the sun!_

_Watch me walk through solid concrete,_

_Or make a table float._

_Watch me break out of a lockbox,_

_Or hypnotize a goat!_

_I can pull a rabbit out of my hat,_

_Or a coin out of your ear!_

_And if you're a really special kid,_

_I can make you disappear!"_

_The music died down and the camera zoomed in on Weeb- Avery, who turned to face his audience. They looked all to be between the ages of four and ten. I took a sip of scotch. _

"_Today, we're going to be doing some card tricks! Now which one of you boys and girls wants to be my first volunteer?"_

_The camera pans to the children, who are fidgeting nervously in their seats. Two little girls exchange apprehensive glances. Not a single one of them looks at ease, let alone excited. There's something off about this..._

"_How about you, Billy!" _

_Avery seizes the young boy by his arm and pulls him to the center of the set before he has a chance to respond. The child's head lolls forward slightly and he seems to be unsteady on his feet, struggling to keep his balance._

"_Pick a card, Billy, any card."_

_The camera zooms in on the boy and I can see his face. His eyelids droop and flutter in a struggle to stay ajar. He reaches a limp fingered hand out to the card deck, his motion sloppy and uncoordinated, as if he's been drugged..._

"_Hey, Severus.", I turn away from the television and flinch backwards, slightly startled. Avery never did understand the concept of personal space. I slide my chair over, putting a distance between the two of us. A distance I feel is comfortable enough for me to engage a man who dances in costume and calls himself Weebo._

"_I've got all the goods right here. Maya's extra sweet tonight.", He hands me a zip-lock bag filled with a shockingly blue herb, unlike anything that would be found in nature. I crack open the bag slightly and give it a whiff. It's the real thing, as ever. A gram of blue maya, easily one of the most difficult to cultivate herbs on the face of the Earth. As much as I desired to control every aspect of the potions I made, I just did not have the time nor the patience for the intricacies of horticulture. It was simply more efficient to either purchase them or delegate the task to someone else._

"_Do you want to see my dollhouse?"_

_I looked up at Avery, thinking I must have been hearing things."...Excuse me?"_

"_Would you like to come with me...to my dollhouse?"_

_I had actually heard him correctly. A moment of silence passed over the two of us. The dim lighting of the trailer glared off of his oversized, wire frame glasses. Below his ginger mustache, a crooked smile of brown, rotting teeth slowly bloomed. The only sound that could be heard was the unsettlingly off-beat whimsy coming from the television. Across the screen, the crawling silhouette of a cockroach could be seen. I drained my scotch glass in one, deep gulp._

"_There's really...nothing else quite like it. It's beautiful, Severus. You seem like a man who can appreciate...unique things. Would you like to see it?", He spoke in little more than a whisper._

_I could have said no. Among the myriad of pervasive, chiding, mocking, shaming, screaming regrets that would haunt my broken psyche for life, that one would always be near the top of my list. I could have said no that night. I could have...but not would have. I was the man that clogged up the highway going five miles an hour with his head turned so he could catch a glimpse of meat in a hideous car wreck. I was the man that watched Quidditch matches solely for the accidents. I was the man who's heart leaped at the sight of crime scene tape. I was not a man who thought that there would come a day when he got more than he bargained for in the realm of the obscene. Never did I think that when it came to morbidity, a time would come when I would bite off more than I could chew._

_My better judgment tells me no, but my scintillating curiosity and burning hunger for the macabre says_

"_Yes. Fine. Show me this thing."_

_Avery breathes more heavily as his smile widens. "Follow me outside."_

"_It's outside?"_

"_Yes. It's only a few m-miles down the – down the t-trail in the woods out b-back.", He was becoming so over-excited that he began hyperventilating and tripping over his words. I had a strong inkling that I was the first person to ever agree to this. It wasn't every day that a grown man consented to seeing another grown man's 'dollhouse'._

_I threw on my black cloak and followed him out the back door of his RV to a moonless winter night. Reflecting in the light of Avery's wand, a rusted, orange, 'NO HUNTING' sign with several bullet holes through it shone, posted on a telephone pole. Beyond that, hardly visible in the darkness, a narrow, dirt trail cut through dense woods. It was difficult to make out anything beyond the small scope of light that Avery's wand cast and the trail was an obstacle course of snaking, stray tree roots, holes, and the occasional broken glass. I was forced to stay closer to the man than I liked. For a time, the only sound was that of our footsteps, and Avery's heaving, overstimulated breaths. _

"_So, you collect dolls, I assume?", I finally asked conversationally. _

"_Oh y-yes. Lovely, darling little dolls. I've coll-collected so many over the years. They're p-perfect.", His shoulders became more hunched and his hands began to shake slightly. He started muttering unintelligibly under his breath, so quietly I couldn't make out a word he said. I really didn't want to converse with the man any further. I began to think back to last week. _

"Avery is getting worse."

That was all Tom Riddle had said. It was at the same time a statement and a request. Someone needed to keep an eye on him, and I was the one to be commissioned for the job. As of late, he could be seen more often than not simply lost in God knows whatever went on in his own head, face locked in a thousand yard stare, muttering to himself and rocking back and forth. His skin was becoming even paler than my own and his ginger comb-over had thinned dramatically, along with his body. There were even times when he could be heard softly singing the theme song to the kiddie show he hosted...in empty rooms, with no one around to hear. He had also become sloppy and unfocused. Fortunately enough, he still managed to grow me the rare herbs I needed and make himself useful enough to me, but he just wasn't cutting it for Tommy anymore. He was a good enough dog, in his day, but even the best dogs needed to be...put down, sometimes. It truly would be a pity if it came to that, not everyone could grow blue maya.

_No sooner did I think of it that Avery began to half whisper, half sing:_

"_Ooooooh, I'm Weebo the W-Wacky Wizard, _

_And w-we're here to have some fun..._

_When it c-c-comes to making m-magic,_

_I know every -heh heh- trick under the sun..."_

_At this point, I daresay that a cold pang of uneasiness crept into me. I wasn't even sure at that point if Avery knew I was there anymore as I caught a sidelong glance of his blank, practically bloodless face. The woods seemed to feel unnaturally still around me as I followed the quavering light source. My imagination began to project shapes in the surrounding blackness when I would peer into it. Like a reflex, I buried my hand in my cloak pocket and wrapped it around the steel inside. _

"_Watch me w-w-walk through -heh heh heh- solid con-concrete,_

_Or make a t-table float..._

_Watch me b-break out of a lockbox,_

_Or hyp-hypnotize a goat...heh heh"_

_I could feel my heart beginning to beat faster. We were several miles from any sort of civilization at this point and Avery's melodic whispers and deranged giggles were gnawing at my already on-edge nerves. I didn't know what to say to the man at this point. I just looked on in biting discomfort as he appeared to become more and more unhinged, simply unraveling before me. Lying on the ground beside me I spied something bright yellow. Curious, I picked it up and held it close to the light of Avery's wand. It was a picket sign that had been unearthed from the ground and tossed aside. It read in all capital letters: 'CONDEMNED PROPERTY. NO TRESPASSING.'_

"_I can -heh heh- pull a rabbit out of my hat,_

_Or a c-coin out of your ear..._

_There was a small clearing I noticed to my left, and the light reflected off of something shiny. Broken glass. A sooty pile of stones and sticks lay in the center of a semi-circle of logs. Vials...what looked like empty potion vials, some in-tact, others smashed to pieces, lay littered around what must have been a campsite. Amidst the glass, turned on its side, lay a discarded little buckle shoe..._

"_And if you're a really spe-special kid,_

_I can make you disappear..."_

_I felt my fingers turn to ice as the pieces wove themselves together in my head. I suddenly felt his hand on my shoulder and gasped sharply. _

"_Do you know what I like best about dolls, Severus?"_

_His blue eyes bore unblinkingly into mine and his face began to twitch. "What?"_

"_They stay tiny and perfect..._forever._"_

"_Avery...what did you do?"_

"_We're here."_

_I broke his maniacal gaze and looked ahead. In a wide clearing of trees there stood an abandoned two-story house, half taken back to nature by snaking, mossy vines, mold, and filth. It appeared to have been white...at some point. I squinted, trying to examine it in more detail through the darkness. Avery led me to the porch and produced a small key from his pocket. His hand was trembling so severely he could barely manage to insert it in the lock. _

"_Avery...what the hell do you have in there?"_

"_P-p-promise you won't t-tell anyone. This will be...our secret."_

_Without another word, he turned the key and opened the rotting door, the rusted hinges letting out a shrill shriek into the night. He stepped into the blackness beyond the threshold and I followed._

_I will remember the way it smelled until my dying breath..._

…_..._

The baking heat of the summer sun beat down through a cloudless sky on the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. The winding, narrow streets were packed with rowdy, overstimulated adolescents getting a jump on their back to school shopping. On the curb outside of Ollivander's, three boys sat comparing wand sizes. Across the street, a young girl fawned and fussed over her new brilliantly white snow owl. Strolling down the sidewalk, Eileen Prince held her son's hand, lost in a memory.

"_You're joking! He couldn't have possibly made it through the whole thing!", Eileen had said through gales of laughter._

"_Well, he did, and by God if his face wasn't greener than a frog's asshole when he was done with it. Then I told him I'd give him five more reichsmarks if he ate the other one."_

_Eileen playfully slapped him on the shoulder. "Max, you are absolutely terrible, do you know that?"_

"_And you are absolutely beautiful.", He gently cupped her chin in his hand, locking her eyes on to his._

"_There it is.", He whispered._

"_What?"_

"_Your smile. It's something you don't do nearly enough."_

"_Why is it that everyone always says girls should smile all the time?", She rolled her eyes, a mock-annoyed expression on her face._

"_I actually don't think that at all, I feel quite the opposite. Your smile is so lovely because it's rare. You walk around so cross and sullen all the time that when you do smile, you practically look like a different person. It's so rare and special I feel as if it's only for me."_

"_If I smiled often, then it wouldn't be rare anymore. Why would you want that?, She tilted her head to the side._

_He moved his face closer to hers. "Because I'm greedy."_

_Without another word, he pressed his lips to hers and she reciprocated without a second thought. An aggressive tongue slid its way into an eager mouth. Muggle or not, it was the most magical thing she had ever felt. He ran his fingers through her shimmering midnight hair, raking his nails along her neck, her back, and then her rear end, where they lingered. _

_She was so lost to bliss she never even heard Dr. Prince enter the room._

"Mom!"

"What!?", She asked too loudly, startled out of her reverie.

"We passed Mrs. Greene's."

"Oh..."

She walked him back a few paces to a small building painted in obnoxiously clashing primary colors. In the window, she could see toddlers romping with abandon inside a large ball pit. When they stepped inside, she knelt down to her son's level and once again bid him to behave well before he disappeared into the horde of screaming children.

Knockturn Alley teemed with a very different sort of crowd. The moment she turned the shadowy corner, she was nearly knocked to her feet by a large, burly, bald-shaven man walking at an overly-brisk pace.

"Watch where you're going, _slut!_", He growled under his breath.

Eileen merely rolled her eyes and kept walking. Half hidden by discarded wooden crates, a mangy, filthy looking dog huddled and growled protectively over a slab of rancid meat. Up ahead, a hunchbacked, bearded old man wildly flailed a brass bell up and down and bellowed the word of God.

"WE ALL, LIKE SHEEP, HAVE GONE ASTRAY! EACH OF US HAS TURNED TO HIS OWN WAY! AND THE LORD HAS LAID ON HIM THE INIQUITY OF US ALL! DO YOU NOT KNOW THAT YOUR BODY IS A TEMPLE OF THE HOLY SPIRIT, WHO IS IN YOU, WHOM YOU HAVE RECIEVED FROM GOD? YOU ARE NOT YOUR OWN-"

She gasped as the preacher clutched her arm when she closed the distance between them. He shifted his eyes and held his hand over the side of his mouth, whispering so only she could hear.

"Lady, I got heroin. 20 galleons a bag. Best China White at the best price, you won't find a better deal."

His breath smelled like battery acid. "Thanks...but no thanks.", She pulled her arm free and quickened her step while the preacher continued his ringing and screaming. On a rusty bench a few paces forward a thin man all but consumed a woman's flesh with his tongue, her lacy blouse open and her breasts exposed to the wind, moaning and rocking her hips out in the open without a care. Adjacent to the lovers, the gaudy, bright purple and scarlet neon sign for Borgin and Burkes hung overhead. Eileen smoothed her dress, took a deep breath and stepped inside.

A dusty, cobwebbed, 4-bulb chandelier provided just enough lighting for the quaint little curiosity shop. At the front desk, a radio provided ambient music for the store. The current song playing happened to be Pink Floyd's _Have a Cigar._ Eileen took a moment to examine some of the items on the shelves. It was your typical fly-by-night wizard's fare: Various books on the dark arts and miscellaneous how-to guides relating to the nefarious, including _Everything You Wanted to Know About the Unforgivables but Were Afraid to Ask, Horcruxes? More Like Bore-cruxes! Try This Weird Trick and Avoid Splitting Your Soul!, and Keeping it in the Family: The Ultimate Guide to Dating Your Relatives. _Racks upon racks of potions lined the walls. Some were poisons, some enhancers, some "legal" alternatives to street drugs that would most likely make you go blind. Locked behind showcases were a plethora of magical artifacts, each bearing a plaque with a short summary of its history. Not wanting to waste too much time, however, she proceeded straight to the front desk, which was currently unoccupied. She lightly tapped the bell for service.

_Come in here, dear boy, have a cigar._

Carried on porcelain bare feet, he seemed to glide out of the back room. His elegant, violet robes flowing behind him as he walked coupled with the warm, charming smile he greeted her with made him all but glow when he entered the room. The man couldn't have been a day over 19 and he looked at her with the deepest cobalt eyes she had ever seen. Atop his well-groomed, dark brown hair rested a curious looking woven crown of thorns.

"What can I do you for, my Lady?", His voice flowed from his lips in a soft, honeyed melody.

_You're gonna go far, you're gonna fly high..._

"I'm here for an interview with Caractacus Burke. My name is Eileen Prince."

"Eileen Prince...", He narrowed his eyes and slowly raised his index finger, as if he were digging for a thought. "Ah!", He snapped his fingers and pointed at her, eyes wide and smiling. "Now how does it go again..._And so he rode, and so he rode, the King that knew no fear. From North to South, to East to West, until the death screams were heard by every ear..."_

Had she been caught any more off-guard, her bladder would have let go then and there.

"That's how it goes, isn't it? The _Ballad of Severus The Conqueror_? You are of the Prince royal family, are you not?"

"I-I-I have no idea what you're talking about.", She was sure the fear in her voice betrayed her. The room suddenly felt suffocatingly small around her. She wished for nothing more than to run out the door at full speed.

"Really? I always assumed there was only one Prince bloodline in the wizarding world. Ah well, I stand corrected and embarrassed, I suppose.", He dipped his head slightly and chuckled to himself. "Anyway, where are my manners? I'm Tom. Tom Riddle.", He extended his hand to her.

_You're never gonna die, you're gonna make it if you try; they're gonna love you..._

Reluctantly, she took it. His skin was supple and cold. Very cold. As much as she wanted to run, she knew she wouldn't breathe easy until she knew exactly who this man was and what he knew about her family.

"Out of curiosity, Tom, what was that song you were just singing?", She asked him, trying her damnest to maintain an impassable poker face.

"_The Ballad of Severus The Conqueror?", _Why it's the song of the ancient ancestor to the Prince family – the one I had in mind, anyway. Brutal wizard, he was. Thousands of years ago he ruled the wizarding world with an iron fist. Some historians even speculate that it was he who invented the killing curse.", The more he spoke of it, the wider his smile grew, yet his voice remained amiable and reserved. "I'll somewhat embarrassedly admit, I played at being him when I was a boy, swinging around a wooden sword and wearing a paper crown."

_Well I've had a deep respect, and I mean that most sincerely..._

"Must have been fun."

"It wasn't for the other kids.", He tittered. There was something about the sound of his laughter that set Eileen's teeth on edge. It was laced with a high-pitched iciness, much like a drill or knives being scraped together.

_The band is just fantastic, that is really what I think. Oh by the way, which one's Pink?_

She yelped and jumped as all of a sudden she felt something cold and sleek slither across her ankle.

"It seems my pet is feeling a tad left out.", He smiled warmly.

She looked down to find a large, diamond backed rattlesnake looking at her with it's head cocked to the side like a scaly dog.

"It's alright, you can pet her if you like, she doesn't bite."

Despite the warmth in his voice and the sparkle in his eyes, Eileen somehow doubted that. Nonetheless, she dipped her knees slightly and gave the snake a light pat on the head.

"You know, I find it difficult to believe that you're not related to the royal family of Prince."

_And did we tell you the name of the game, boy? We call it riding the Gravy Train..._

Her heart froze in her chest and the blood in her veins turned to acid.

"I mean, if I were you, I'd look into my lineage a bit. You might just find yourself a princess, never even having been aware of it. Fantastic surprise that would be, wouldn't it? You certainly wouldn't be needing to take a job in this old hole in the wall if that were the case. After all, I don't think I've ever heard of a stray Prince.", His voice and demeanor betrayed nothing. He dripped charm and oozed grace, yet there was a trace of something far less kosher lurking beneath the surface.

_We're just knocked out. We heard about the sell out, you gotta get an album out..._

"And how is it that you know everyone in the wizarding community?", She asked, trying to keep the edge out of her voice as well as she could.

"I make it my business to.", He replied, casual as day.

"Well, I doubt it, and I'd rather not get my hopes up."

"That's too bad, then. I hear those lucky bastards are in good with the Studworths. What I wouldn't give to be rubbing elbows with them. Merlin knows, I've tried."

_You owe it to the people. We're so happy we can hardly count..._

"What else can you tell me about these people?", _If the Studworths even gave this boy the time of day he's close enough to my family to destroy me..._

"To my sadness, not much firsthand."

She breathed a sigh of relief, hoping he didn't take notice.

"Though...I'd give just about anything to meet The Doctor. There's simply no potion crafter out there who is his equal. I was lucky enough to score a copy of some of his notes, and I don't even want to admit how much I paid for them. Of course, I'm all thumbs when it comes to alchemy. I attempted to craft some Xenochrome A and it turned into an absolute mess.", He said it with the carefree ease of someone discussing a recipe for apple pie.

_Everybody else is just green, have you seen the chart?_

"And how...would you have acquired the necessary ingredients for Xenochrome A?", She tried yet failed to keep a reproachful tone out of her voice.

"And what on Earth would you know about the making of Xenochrome A, Miss Prince who's not a Prince?", He raised an eyebrow at her, smirking in satisfaction. He was on the brink of catching her in her lie...or had he already caught her?

Eileen's discomfort at this point was palpable. She was locked in a game of chess with words against this eccentric and frightening boy and she was losing. She decided to change the subject.

"Why do you wear that crown of thorns? Are you an associate of the preacher outside, perchance?"

His features lightened and he laughed out loud. "Oh heavens, no. However, I do feel it's about time the wizarding world had a messenger of its own."

"And is that supposed to be you?"

"Perhaps. There are some who look to me as a Lord.", As pompous as it sounded, he uttered the words with earnest indifference.

_It's a helluva start, it could be made into a monster, if we all pull together as a team..._

She honestly didn't know what to say to that. "It must get terribly uncomfortable, wearing that all day."

"A crown should never be worn easily.", He remarked, cobalt eyes glittering.

_And did we tell you the name of the game, boy? We call it riding the Gravy Train- _

_SCREEEEEEAAAAAAARCH SCREEEEEAAAAAAARCH!_

The both of them turned around startled when the radio began to emit hideous buzzing noises.

_SCREEEEEEAAAAAAARCH SCREEEEEAAAAAAARCH!_

_Alpha. Yankee. Foxtrot. Alpha. Yankee. Foxtrot. Three. Nine. Seven. One. Five. Three. Nine. Seven. One. Five..._

"Bloody hell, not this again.", He walked over to the radio and reached to change the station.

"Wait!"

He turned and looked at her, perplexed.

"That sound, those numbers...I feel like I've heard them somewhere before...", She turned her eyes to the floor, searching her memory, sifting through an assortment of broken images -_I want everything- _but it yielded no connections. "Do you know anything about them? Do you know what they are?"

"No one does.", He answered flatly. "They broadcast at random. It's some sort of code that nobody seems to be able to crack. Some say they're utilized by spies to discreetly transmit information. It's unknown whether they're used by muggles, wizards, or both. My pet theory is that it's a method of communication for remaining fugitive Nazis."

Her eyes shot up at him all too quickly, as she could tell by his sly, knowing grin.

"Not that you'd have to worry about that, Miss Prince that's not a Prince."

"Damn it, Riddle! Will ya quit ear fuckin' the poor girl!"

A scraggly, pot-bellied man who she could only assume to be Mr. Burke came tromping out of the back room. "I was supposed to be interviewing the lady 15 minutes ago!"

Tom Riddle put his forearm over his waist and bowed low. "My apologies. I became so caught up in her charms that I simply let time get away from me. She's an interesting one, Burke, you aught not to let her slip away.", He shot her a final coy glance.

"Alright, let's get on with this.", Mr. Burke said gruffly, ushering her inside the back room.

Eileen found she had no pre-interview jitters in the face of the relief she felt just to be away from that barefoot, thorn crowned, smiling boy.

An hour later she sat with Viserus at a table outside of Florean's, as she promised him. The boy eagerly licked away at a rainbow snow cone. For herself, she ordered nothing. She merely sat in silence, examining her hands and trying to block out the conversation she shared with Tom Riddle, which was playing on an endless loop inside her head. Now and then, she would nervously look over her shoulder , thinking she spied a flash of purple robes.

"Mom, are you okay?", His small features scrunched into a quizzical expression.

"I'm fine, sweetling. I'm fine.", She reassured him, lying through her teeth.

When they arrived back at the hotel room, Eileen changed into a more casual, form fitting yet modest blue strapped dress. Viserus was already tucked safely away upstairs, in front of Mrs. Snape's television set. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, applying makeup to her face. It had been so long since she used the stuff that she all but forgot what was supposed to go where. When she pressed her lipstick against her mouth, she unavoidably painted sloppy, jagged lines of crimson on and around her lips. Her hands would not cease trembling. She was powerless to stop the barrage of 'what ifs?' that scratched at the back of her skull and caused her heart to pound. With a sigh of resignation, she opened the medicine cabinet, popped a quaalude, then strode down the hallway to meet Tobias.

When she stepped into the dingy lobby, an endearing smile lit up the rough spun, five o' clock shadowed features of Tobias Snape. Eileen returned the smile as if it were a reflex. By typical standards, he wasn't a particularly handsome man. His hooked nose was dreadfully large, his teeth sat crooked and uneven in his mouth, and his hands were cut and calloused, yet she couldn't help but be captivated by his raw masculinity and the unadorned sincerity in his face. As he stood there in his jeans, plain t-shirt, and work boots, she mused on what a breath of fresh air it was to meet a man who felt no need to put on airs.

"Well I'll be, ain't you a sight.", His blue-gray eyes looked her up and down approvingly.

He held out his hand to her, and she took it, finding comfort in it's rough warmth. "So, where to first?"

"I figured we'd start at the river and make our way 'round, that way we can hike on down the trail through the woods just at sunset."

Her black eyes glittered. "That sounds absolutely lovely.", she had never pegged him as a romantic.

And so, hand-in-hand they stepped into the sunlight. Usually, one would be more likely to see a unicorn in Spinner's End than a cloudless summer day, but the sun beat down on them nonetheless. Masked in the sparkling glare of the light, the snaking, black river could almost pass for something pretty. She gently slipped her hand out of his and stepped towards it, her footsteps making crunching sounds in the dead grass. She had never gotten a such a close look at the brackish waters before.

"I wouldn't get that close to it if I were you, darlin'-"

"Ah!", By good fortune alone she managed to pull her foot away from the gelatinous feeling substance before it made its way into her shoe. She looked to the ground. Writhing in the brown grass a swarm of maggots fed on what must have once been a fish. The tail of the wretched thing was nothing more than a twisted pile of scale and bone; the head was a sickening mass of monstrous looking growths and tumors. A few feet away was another fish in a similar state, and another, and another. Beyond that, a pile of rot and feathers that was once a duck, and the empty shell of a turtle. Tobias retook her hand and pulled her away from the toxic filth.

"You didn't get anything on you, now did ya?", He asked, concerned.

"No, I didn't. I'm fine.", Out of morbid curiosity, she kept her eyes peeled on the riverbank, seeing how much more mutilated wildlife she could spot.

"The river is somethin' meant to be admired from a distance. Not that it's anythin' worth admiring."

"How on Earth did it get like that?", She asked, half disgusted and half astonished.

Tobias shrugged. "Well, I probably shouldn't be tellin' you this, but eh, the bigwigs down at the plant, you know, them bein' tight asses and all, they're always tryin' to cut corners wherever they darn can...and well...it ain't like the EPA comes around these parts anyhow."

Despite his rambling, Eileen grasped his meaning.

He lit a cigarette and sighed deeply. "If I had any say in anythin' it wouldn't be that way, but I don't."

"Don't they realize how dangerous that is?"

He chuckled. It was a deep, gruff, yet musical sound. She would be lying if she said it did not stir a kindling of warmth between her thighs. "Darlin', I hate to break it to you, but we live in a dump. Civilization ends at the other side of that river." He pointed his cigarette in the direction of the opposite riverbank. "Must be nice to be rich.", He remarked bitterly.

Coming from the life she had lived, in her eyes, the houses on the other side of the natural border of Spinner's End were far from wealthy. In comparison to the side her and Tobias walked, however, they might as well have been palaces to a hundred different kings. She was almost envious of his ignorance. As tedious as the mundane humdrum of working class, muggle life may have been for him, he would never have to know of the corrupt, unprincipled practices and obligations that came with 'status'.

"They're probably all just pretentious prats, anyway.", She offered him a shy, consoling smile. It seemed to please him.

"Maybe, but hey, they must be doing somethin' right."

The memory came to her again, unbidden.

_The blue eyes met the black and her heart froze. She shoved Max off of her so hard he hit the floor on his hands and knees._

_Dr. Prince only smiled. "Max, I think it's time for you to go home now.", He said the words with such gentle courtesy one would take him for a saint, yet the color drained from her lover's face in an instant. _

_The boy found his footing and backed away slowly. He took a breath to speak, but when he looked from her to him, he let it seep out of him in silence. He met her eyes one last time, his face a mix of fear and sorrow and pity, then he left the room and closed the door, leaving her to her father._

"_Daddy...", Her breaths came in short gasps and she bit her trembling lower lip. "Daddy, I'm so sorry-"_

_He held his open palmed hand in front of her and turned away his face, a gesture she had known for the last 13 years to say 'be silent, _now_.' For a terrifying second the only sound that could be heard in the room was her whimpers. _

"_I see you've developed a taste for muggles.", He said it as plainly and emotionless as if 'muggle' were a variety of cake. She said nothing. _

"_Let me ask you something, Eileen."_

_She nodded, trembling._

"_What do you think is of more value, love or strength?", He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, never taking his stony blue eyes off of her._

"_I...don't understand.", She tasted the salt of her tears as they rolled down her cheeks, into the corners of her dry lips._

"_It's a simple question, princess. Just answer it honestly."_

"_I...I...I suppose love is more valuable.' _

_He knelt down to his daughter's level and cupped her face in his long, slender fingers, wiping her tears away. Bending forward, he gently pressed his lips against her forehead. "My little doveling...your innocence is so touchingly precious. It just truly is a shame that you'd be so willing to give it away.", His faux-soothing voice was sugar coated venom to her ears. _

"_Daddy, I swear, we weren't-"_

"_Ssshhh, my princess.", He stroked her ebony hair. "It's okay. This is my fault."_

_She looked up at him, red eyed and confused._

"_It appears I have been so preoccupied with my work that I have been neglectful in educating my daughter on the more...important things in life.", He stood up and offered her his hand. She shrank away from it. "Oh come now, princess, I only want to show you something." Like a battered animal, she slowly and warily uncurled her body and let him help her to her feet. _

"_Where are we going?"_

_He grinned like a little boy struggling with every fiber of his being to keep an amusing secret. "You'll see, princess...you'll see."_

"You're wrong.", She lifted the hand that was not intertwined with Tobias' and discreetly wiped a tear from her cheek.

"What do you mean? They got all that cash, nice cushy jobs, and pretty cars don't they?"

"Landing money and power doesn't depend on how 'right' you are, nor how kind you are, nor how just you are, nor how honest you are."

"What does it depend on then?"

She turned her face away from him, so he would not see, so she would not darken the only sunlit day they were apt to share all summer.

"It depends on how ruthless you are. That, and nothing more."

**A/N: Good gravy I had entirely too much fun writing this chapter. I know that this chapter takes place before 'Have A Cigar' was written, but eh, semantics, semantics...A warm thank you to Hiest for the wonderful complement. There will be many more updates where this came from. Hope you all enjoy, and remember, when a man propositions you to see his dollhouse...just...say...no.**


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